Lights
by truthinvienna
Summary: It's shocking how fast your life can change. Happiness is fleeting, it's true. Dancing was my freedom, now it's a mere memory. A bad memory I can't escape. All I'm left with is insurmountable guilt and a pair of pointe shoes.
1. Lights: Prologue

Revised on 09/27/2011.**  
><strong>

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N: **The topics in this story are heavy. There is discussion/mention and flashbacks of suicide and depression. However, that being said, this story is about recovery and love, in both friendship and romantic relationships. It will always remain Bella and Edward.

I hope you enjoy. Thank you.

**Lights**

**- Prologue - **

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I am cold. I should be cold. It's a February night. The sky is clear and black above me. No stars or moon dress the darkness. It's different than just any other night. I know this without even second guessing myself. There is an electricity in the atmosphere. A kissing chill of the wind that slaps around us. It's as if, in this moment, there is only her and I. The world has stopped and the only people who exist are Katey and Izzy. Best friends. Worlds apart.

I shiver, slightly shuttering. It isn't from the cold, it's from a fear I can't seem to place. Something is wrong and it's something I can't fix.

"Hey, Izzy, would you save me?" the question slips from Kate's lips as her foot inches closer to the edge of the cliff.

I can't tell you why. Why I don't run to her, or grab her, or just scream in general. I stand here frozen, with her calm breaths softly exhaling on my face. I smile, it's not my true smile. It's a confused, scared, smile. In a shaky voice, I say, "Of course."

That's all.

** Not**: "Katey, what are you talking about?" or "I love you. Stop this."

No. I say two words that mean nothing to her. She knows I can't save her. She knows I'm powerless. And for a brief second, a thought washes over my mind, _you're punishing me_.

She looks different in this scene. Her yellow hair whips around her face. She's fearless and relaxed. Like she's finally found some calm peace that never existed before now.

I've known Kate all my life, and I can honestly say that I've never seen her like this.

She is ethereal.

She is eternal.

And already gone.

"Liar," she whispers and without even hesitating, falls gracefully from the cliff. _She always does everything with grace_, I think. I don't even move, all I hear is a splash against the rocks below.

Kate managed two suicides that night, because not only did she end her life, she also ended mine.

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_**I had a way then losing it all on my own**_

_**I had a heart then but the queen has been overthrown**_

_**And I'm not sleeping now the dark is too hard to beat**_

_**And I'm not keeping now the strength I need to push me**_

_**You show the lights that stop me turn to stone**_

_**You shine It when I'm alone**_

_**And so I tell myself that I'll be strong**_

_**And dreaming when they're gone**_

**- Ellie Goulding - Lights -**


	2. Chapter One: A Beginning, A Start, Alone

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Lights – Chapter One – A Beginning. A Start. Alone.**

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I spend most of the six months after Kate's death in a sleepy haze. If someone asked me what I did for those twenty-six weeks, I wouldn't be able to give them a specific answer. My days consisted of basic survival skills. Eating, sleeping, and bathing. Rinse, repeat, and start again. It's amazing how days begin to bleed together when you cut off all human contact.

I'm sure I've spoken to people within these past months. I'm sure of it. I think. I have my parents. Even my loud brother who lives in the room next door to mine. I know in the very beginning they tried to comfort me. Tried to get me to talk to them, tried to make life easier for me. Shutting down was my only outlet. There's only so many _"Honey, are you okay?" "Do you need to talk?" "Letting it out will make you feel better." _offerings a person can take.

_"No, I don't need to fucking talk!" _I wanted to scream every time I heard one of them ask it.

I think after so much one sided comfort, my family gave up. Maybe not gave up, per-se, but let go of the choke hold. I wasn't responding to their contributions and if I'm being completely honest, I was relieved. I was more than happy to sort of fade away.

And after so much neglect I was allowing myself, I stopped everything. Kate died in the middle of our senior year. After that, I stopped going to school. I remember going to class a few days after the event and having all of my friends, even people I didn't really know coming up to me, hugging me, trying to talk to me, and I thought, _what's the point?_

Truly, what was the point? Kate was my other half, quite literally. Where I was quiet and slightly withdrawn, Kate was boisterous and vibrant. I was calm, she was high energy. I worried about what people would think of me, she could have cared less. We were polar opposites in most aspects of life. Ying and Yang. She was my missing puzzle piece and frankly, I didn't know how to continue on without her. So you see, detaching was my only alternative.

Sure, it was far from healthy and I hated it. I hated her for it. Thinking that makes me even more guilty and sad. I want to cry, I wish for tears to stain my cheeks. Maybe then I'll wake up, maybe if I just allow myself to feel something besides nothing, things will change. But the truth is, I haven't cried. It's been all of spring and most of summer and not one drop of water has seeped from eyes.

That's not normal, right? I know that's not normal. She was everything in my world, my best friend. More than that, she was like my sister. Her death wasn't meant to be, it could have been stopped. I could have stopped it and I didn't. Emotionally, it's killing me. I think I deserve that though. I'm not wallowing. Not really. I'm dealing with it the only way I know how. I'm living with it every day and punishing myself for it. It's better than pretending it never happened.

I can't pretend. Pretending is like acting. I sure as shit can't act. So that option was squashed from the beginning. That was Kate's job, amongst everything else, she sure could put on a good show. Hell, she acted her way through her eighteen years. No one offs themselves when everything in their life is chipper.

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** My eyes snap open**.

It's August.

The sun is shining through my sheer purple curtains. Bright light, be damned. I roll over with my comforter cascading over my head. As my eyelids begin to feel heavy and slowly start drop into a slumber, I hear a booming pounding on my door, "Iz, wake up! I'm not gonna be late on a count of your slow ass. Hurry up!"

Dread floods my brain. August. School. First day. I'm almost nineteen years old and I'm starting my senior for the second time in my life. Pathetic? Check. But, I did promise at the start of summer that I would go back in the fall. Try to start over, get my diploma, not be such a total fuck up. It was a rough promise. One that I wasn't quite sure I could follow through on. However, I couldn't stand to look in my parents eyes and see that constant disappointment mixed with immense hurt. It was crushing. Especially when I was always the doting daughter, the one who couldn't possibly screw up as much as I have. It was unthinkable before February. Life moves pretty fast, huh?

I tell myself, this is for mom and dad, not really for me. I can't continue to upset them. I make it difficult for them when they see friends and extended family members and have to tell everyone what a depressive delinquent their daughter has become. I grunt and push back the covers from myself and slip out of bed, my feet dropping with a thump to the hard wood floor beneath me.

I relish in the fact that I don't have to stand at my closet for a half hour and pick out something to wear. School uniforms are a blessing in that regard. I thank the heavens above for that. I used to loathe wearing the ghastly pleated plaid skirt and itchy maroon cardigan, now it's a convenience. I'm all for convenience versus effort. Convenience and I get a long pretty damn well these days. I grab an elastic band off my dresser and tie my dark hair back in a messy bun, even my hair lacks effort, the less I look like myself the more likely I'll blend into the crowd. Picking my school bag up from the floor where it's been sitting against the wall for six months, I throw it over my shoulder and take one long look around my bedroom. I haven't been happy here, that's for sure, but, I'm scared to leave this bubble. It's protected me for a long while. Wrapped me up in darkness, and it was my salvation in a sad, cryptic sort of way.

I sigh and turn to the door, opening it and heading downstairs where the smell of breakfast food taunts me. My mother stands at the counter slicing some strawberries. She briefly stops what she's doing and looks up at me, "Isabella, there's waffles on the table, go sit down and eat something."

I give her a half smile and reach into the fruit bowl that dresses the counter and pull out an apple from it. I turn away from her because I really can't take anymore of the dismal looks she gives me. _Please stop mom, be happy that I'm a least accomplishing this much._

My big oaf of a brother sits at the kitchen table inhaling his breakfast. A plate of waffles and pork sausages mashed together with maple syrup acting as the glue. He stops eating for a second and grabs the glass of orange juice placed in front of him and gulps it down. "Em, you ready? Or have you not finished eating your weight in carbohydrates?"

Emmett's blue eyes dart to my dark ones. The only thing my brother and I have in common is our brown hair, any other physical element was a genetic screw up. His large frame towers over my petite one. Surprise dons his eyes but his body remains still in the chair. I guess I was wrong about that speaking thing. Obviously it's a shock to hear my voice. It's even a shock to me, my throat feels scratchy and dry from lack of using it. He clears his throat, "Ha ha, Izzy makes a joke," he tosses his car keys to me. "Start the Jeep, I'll be out in a minute."

I head for the back door, my fingers skim the door knob before wrapping my hand around it. I hear my mother's soft voice, she speaks to me as if by saying the wrong thing I'll disappear; scurry away like a mouse, "Have a good day, Isabella." I don't say anything back to her, just lower my head and turn the knob, heading out to Emmett's horrifically red Jeep.

I roll my eyes. It's bad enough my brother drives an off-roading vehicle in the city of Chicago, it's even worse that it has to be hooker red. Emmett Swan, the show stopper, ladies and gentlemen! I open the passenger door and climb in, leaning over and putting the key in the ignition. Turning it just so, the engine hums to life.

Stretching out in the car, I extend my legs and prop my feet up against the dashboard of the Jeep. My eyes drift closed just as Emmett opens the door and slides in, "Whoa, respect your surroundings please! Get your dirty little shoes off of my dashboard." I reluctantly remove my feet and place them on the floor where they should be.

Emmett has an odd obsession with this monster of metal. He turns to me after we've gotten on the road, "You seem to be in a better mood, today. What's the deal?"

I shrug and sink down into the leather seat, "Not better. Just figure I should try for mom and dad, I guess."

He nods, doesn't really offer a reply but Emmett is like that. I can confide in him and not have to worry about him ratting me out to our parents. "I know this isn't your class or anything, you know, the people you usually hang around with…" he lets that last sentence drift off a bit.

Thank God, they aren't the usual people I hang out with. That was the one thing about repeating my senior year, I didn't have to see those faces that I knew silently judged me tremendously after Kate's death. In a way, it was a new start. I was fine with that.

Emmett continues, "But, I'm friends with some chill people. We have the same lunch period as you, you should sit with us."

"Maybe. We'll see," I turn my head to look out the window as we pull into the school parking lot. My stomach twists in knots and I can feel bile rising in the back of my throat. I swallow and push it down. I drum my fingers against my thighs.

Emmett must notice this and as he turns off the car, pulling his keys out of the ignition, he says, "It's only till three, Izzy. Just stick it out till three. I'll be out here when it's over, we'll go home and it'll be fine. You'll be fine."

I shake my head in agreement, I can do this. I've done this. It's just school, a few hours. That's all.

When I get out of the car and begin walking towards the entryway of the school, I feel that anxious panic again. I don't know why, the event didn't even happen here. I think it's just the fact that four of my most impressionable years have been spent here, at St. Volturi Academy. They were spent here with Kate by my side.

Now as I walk into the large building, there's no one at my side.

I'm totally and completely alone.

I shouldn't feel so afraid, I mean, I've had six month of feeling alone, another nine shouldn't matter.

But, honestly, what human being wants to be entirely alone?

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_**There was a time when my world**_

_**Was filled with darkness**_

_**Then I stopped dreaming now**_

_**I'm supposed to fill it up with something**_

_**In your eyes I see the eyes of somebody**_

_**I knew before, long ago**_

_**But I'm still trying to make my mind up**_

_**Am I free or am I tied up?**_

_**I change shapes just to hide in this place**_

_**But I'm still, I'm still an animal**_

_**Nobody knows it but me when I slip**_

_**Yeah I slip, I'm still an animal**_

– **Miike Snow – Animal – **


	3. You Don't Choose Your Friends

Revised on 09/27/2011.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine.

**A/N – **Just to make it clear, between each present chapter, they'll be a small excerpt like this. Showing and explaining Bella and Kate's friendship through Bella's memories.

Hope you enjoy, and remember to leave a review! Thanks!

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**Lights**: _**Looking Back**_** – You Don't Choose Your Friends**.

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_"You don't choose your friends, they choose you, and you either reject them or you accept them without reservations."  
><em>**– Arturo Perez-Reverte**

**1996**

_ I met Katrina Denali when I was four years old. _

_ My mother had the harebrained idea of signing me up for dance lessons. I wish I could say that she had a dream of me becoming a ballerina when I got older, but really, I think she just wanted to dress me up in frilly tutus and pink slippers._

_ The very first day of lessons, I cried. I mean, I bawled like a freaking baby. Naturally, I kind of was a baby, four years old hardly qualifies for rational thinking. I was fully petrified, I'd never really been away from my mother all that much, except for a few hours at pre-school. Mom kept going on about how much I would love it, how I'd meet more girls my age, and how exciting it would be for me. _

_ It wasn't exciting. No, not for me. It was terrifying. _

_ It didn't help that my little brother, Emmett, took one look at my Pepto-Bismol pink ensemble and fell over laughing._

_ That was just the fuel to the fire I already had sparking inside of me. I pushed him down, straddled him, and started swatting at him repeatedly while he shrieked, "STOP IT IZZA!". Over and over. Izza. His nickname for me because he couldn't say Isabella clearly._

_ The next thing I knew, I was in my mother's arms and my brother soon followed. Confined in her grip, two children perfectly capable of walking beside her, but too terrible to be trusted. We sparred each other as she held us. Mom deserved a medal that day, Emmett and I belonged on leashes._

_ The Community Center was across the street from my house, located in a large park. When we arrived my mother quickly lowered me from her arms. As she did, I clung to leg like the jaws of life, my eyes already starting to well up with fresh tears._

_ I hammed it up as best as I could, adding a few whimpers here and there, but it was to no avail, my mother wasn't budging on this one. I closed my eyes and started to wallow again, persistence was key in these types of situations. _

_ I did this for several minutes until my mother bent down beside me, trying to balance my brother in her arms, "Honey," she said. "This seems scary, I know. But, I promise you'll have fun. If you do this for me, afterward you, Emmett, and I will go get some ice cream. How's that sound?"_

_ I blinked a few times and at the sound of the words ice cream, I released the death grip I had on mom's leg. I was an easy child to persuade when it came to sweets. I suppose my mother understood that, since I had resorted her to bribing me. She continued to squat down beside me and rub my back in comforting circles._

_ I took in my surroundings slowly. I remember seeing a bunch of girls dressed in the same attire. Many of the girls I danced with for years to come. No one looked the way I did though; scared shitless._

_ Of all those blush pink dressed princesses, one stood out the most in my eyes. She was holding onto her mother's hand while her mother twirled her around and around. She looked the happiest of all of us, the bright smile planted on her innocent face. _

_ She slowed her spins down and suddenly she was facing me, her crystal blue eyes locked to mine. I saw her grab her mother's hand tighter and she began to drag the both of them over towards me._

_ The girl's mother mirrored my own mom's actions, and lowered herself beside her daughter when she arrived at her destination in front of me. "I guess Katrina's found a playmate already." Her mother said, in what I would later understand to be a Russian accent._

_ "I think you're right," My mom gave the pair a smile. She inched me forward, closer to the girl. "Katrina. That's a very pretty name you have there."_

_ The girl made a face and stuck out her tongue. "Katrina! Manners!" Her mother shouted"My apologizes, the queen over here prefers to be called Kate."_

_ "What's your name?" The girl, Kate, asked me curiously._

_ I looked at her like she had two heads and said nothing. _

_ "She's a little shy," I heard mom say. "Go on sweetie, tell Kate your name."_

_ "Isa- Isabella Swan," I stuttered._

_ "Swan!" Kate exclaimed and turned to the woman behind her, her hands clasped to mouth in awe. "Mama! Swan, like Swan Lake!"_

_ Kate's mother, said,"Yes, yes, I heard." She chuckled at her daughter's observation as her long, wavy blond hair blew in the breeze._

_ Kate faced me again and started sputtering facts off about this 'Swan Lake' thing that I had never heard of before. It was her favorite ballet."Your name is Swan," she repeated as if this was some sort of epiphany._

_ I stood up straighter, my three foot body only coming up to Kate's shoulder. She was a good couple inches taller than me. Her vanilla locks were the texture of silk, elegantly wrapped in a bun on top of her head._

_ My mother spent half an hour trying to tame my stubborn brown mane. She piled it in an updo held together with a whole package of bobby pins and a can of hairspray. It probably looked much worse than it did before, due to my wrestling match with Emmett, who was now fast asleep in mom's arms._

_ I was already envious of Kate. Kate and her gold hair. Kate and her pointe shoes that had little rosebuds on them. My pointe shoes had what was supposed to be tied bows on them, but evil Emmett stepped on them till they were sad and flat._

_ But, before I could compare anymore physical differences between her and I, Kate smiled at me, luminous and wide. All of of my growing negativity instantly fell away. _

_ She took my hand in her's and began to pull me away from my mother's side. Kate replicated what her and her mother were doing earlier. Kate held tight to my hand and began to twirl me around her. I started to giggle and so did she, at nothing in particular. The essence of pivoting around in circles leaving us in awe.  
><em>

_ I can recount both of our mothers emulating our happy faces. They were laughing just as we were. In the midst of our twirls I heard my mom tell Kate's that we'd be glued at the hip from now on, she could already tell. It was an accurate truth, from that moment on we were stuck together.  
><em>

_ As we walked to the entrance of our first ballet class together, Kate linked her pinky finger into mine, connecting us together. She began to skip to the door, and I followed._

_ I tended to do that as our friendship continued on. As we grew, I followed. Kate was always the leader, even from that early of an age. She was the early bloomer, I was the late wallflower._

_ This small memory of us, though, I come back to this one more than I care to admit. Before all the chaos hit, we were radiant and blameless. Why couldn't have it just stayed that way?_

_ Yeah, I sure didn't choose Katrina Denali that day, she chose me. That thought occurs in my mine time and time again, and all I can think is that, I wish she hadn't._

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**Like it? Don't like it? Let me know!**


	4. Chapter Two: September

Revised on 09/27/2011.**  
><strong>

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Lights – Chapter Two – September**

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The month of August goes by in a blur. It's like when you watch a movie and fast forward till you get to the good part. That's how those first few weeks of school are spent for me, in a fast forward world. Only there really isn't a good a part. Not yet anyway, and I'm not hopeful there will be.

My nineteenth birthday comes and goes, just like any other day. It's a let down, but it doesn't alter anything in me. I just keep moving, instead of dwelling on such things that don't mean much anymore.

For the most part, my grades are good, I'm neither happy or unhappy about this fact. They could be better, without a doubt, if I applied myself. It's obvious to me and everyone who knows me, that I'm not applying myself in the least bit. It is what it is and I get the occasional talking to after class from teachers who tell me the same thing every time "You can do better, Isabella. Try participating more."

When I hear that observation I want to laugh out loud, I was never one to participate anyway, even before the major depression set in. I made up for it with my studying and good test scores, now it's just all going south. St. Volturi's is a large school, there's an average of around nine hundred and fifty kids in my senior class alone. You'd think there would be at least one kid with crappy grades to harp to. As long as I graduate in the end, I don't really give a shit. Is that so hard for people to understand?

I string together a few handful of sentences per day, which is more than I've spoken in that last couple of months. It's not expected, that's for sure. It's either very surprising or very pathetic. I haven't decided but I'm leaning toward the latter. Cutting off human contact screws up a person's social skills beyond belief. Especially if said person's social skills weren't exactly magnificent to begin with.

It's hard not to talk though, even if it's a short lived conversation. Mostly, my words leave my mouth during lunch period.

I took Emmett up on his generous invitation and started sitting with him and his friends.

It was nerve wracking at first. I knew of his friends, but never really _knew_ them.

The only one who I was somewhat familiar with was Rosalie Hale, Em's long time girlfriend, and we weren't exactly on the same social caliber. So, that was a bust right off the bat. She'd smile tightly and periodically nod her head at my presence. Clearly stating silently, _You're only here because you're Emmett's sister._ Her twin brother, Jasper, and her were so similar in physicality it was scary. And so opposite in personality it was laughable. Unlike Rose, Jasper was a pleasure to share a lunch table with. He was quiet and had a calm demeanor about him. Even Rose's constant bickering didn't bother or rile him.

Then there were the Cullen kids. Alice and Edward. The very first day I stood in front of them, Alice shot up from her seat like lightening struck her. I remember quickly wracking my brain, trying to skim through all the people I knew from this school, or the people I've seen here, and mentally punching myself for not ever remembering Alice. She was a ray of sunlight on a rainy day. It was hard to be unhappy around her because she always had a toothy smile on her face.

I wanted to hate her, I did.

_ Why the hell was she so happy?_

But, I shook it off, that was just Alice. Her very first words to me were, "I know we're going to be the greatest of friends, I just know it." It was a weird affirmation to make, especially when you don't even know the person you're saying it to, but for some odd reason, I believed her. Looking into her eyes, it was hard not to. She was genuine, not fake like most of the people I've encountered.

Edward Cullen, on the other hand, was a different story. I don't think I have ever heard him speak.

When Emmett introduced me to him, he shrugged and his face reddened slightly. Then just as quickly as he looked at me, he turned away. It didn't bother me at first, I was more than happy to not make an impact on someone. More than happy not to have to be the star freak in school for a least a little bit. Going unnoticed was my goal all along. I even became more unacknowledged when I found out Edward Cullen was my lab partner in Biology.

That first day at school, after lunch, when I headed into the classroom, I sat down in the only empty seat available, where none other than Edward Cullen shared. He was unshaped by the coincidence that I was his partner, he rarely looked my way. If we had an assignment to work on, Edward always took full reign without saying a word.

It should have upset me, making me feel inferior. I can't say it did though. He must have known that I didn't have the intention of caring what grade we got. With Edward's fast and thorough work, we always got excellent markings.

I wanted to thank him, tell him I appreciated what he was doing. With the combination of his superb assignment scores, and my average test results I was doing great in Biology and I absolutely loathed science. But, I got the hint that even if did I voice this gratitude, Edward would have just looked the other way and not said anything. We had a silent understanding, I suppose. He did the work, and I took credit for half of it.

One day after class, I noticed Alice zipping through the hall to find me just exiting the room. She made room for herself beside me and fell into my slow stride. "So, I hear you and my brother are lab partners," she said slyly.

I nodded my head, replying yes, without really saying so.

Alice let out a giggle, "Don't worry, he can be a bit odd at first. Once he warms up, you can't get him to shut up." She paused for a few seconds, "I think you make him nervous." I turned to her at that, and she had a sparkle in her eyes, like she was hiding a secret from me.

Before I could muster up something to say back to her, she skipped down the hall to her next class.

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Which brings me back to the present. It's mid–September and I've come to the conclusion that Edward Cullen is sort of an enigma.

Because even though he doesn't talk to me, he's begun to look at me when he thinks I don't notice. He has this intense stare, one that I'm aware of the millisecond it occurs. Whenever I turn to him, I'm met with the greenest eyes that I've ever seen. I swear, every single time, they appear more green than they have before. There is no other way to describe him, except that he's beautiful. And I'm totally blown away that I've never seen him before, never knew a boy with this much physical allure existed. I may not care about what goes on around me, but shit, I'm a nineteen year old girl with hormones. How this guy isn't the most wanted person in school is beyond me.

I find myself taking more care of my appearance in the mornings when getting ready for school. I no longer sloppily tie my hair up. I take the time to brush it, even straightening the stubborn curls I have so that it looks sleek and shiny. I was never one for putting on makeup, but I've succumb to lining my eyes and dressing my lashes with a coat of mascara. Brushing some blush across my nonexistent cheek bones and painting a pale gloss on my light pink lips.

I do these changes subtly at first, trying something new on a different day. The last thing that I want to do is draw attention to myself. It works, no one seems to really notice a difference. If anything starts to feel strange, it's the even more acute glare I get from Edward. His arm is tensely placed on top of the desk, knuckles a straining white color.

Before I even realize the words I'm creating in my head, I hear myself utter, "If you're so uncomfortable sitting next to me, you should ask Mr. Banner to switch your seat so you don't have to sit here anymore."

Edward's lips part slightly and he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "I'm not uncomfortable," he says.

I grunt, "Could have fooled me."

His clear emerald eyes narrow at that, "You don't know anything."

At those last words he speaks, the bell rings signaling that class is over and Edward is up, quickly evacuating the room altogether. You'd think I had some contagious disease the way he juts out to leave.

I'm taking aback by his words, I can't see my face but I'm positive it has a look of awe upon it. He actually spoke. And his voice, his voice was so warm and so cold all at once. An ice cold drink on a hot afternoon. Refreshing and needed.

Something clicks on inside of me, I just want to hear that voice again.

I am shifted out of my revery when I hear my name being called, "Miss Swan, may I talk to you for a minute?"

I look up to find my Biology teacher, Mr. Banner, looking right back at me. I remove myself from my seat and walk up to his desk. "Yes, Mr. Banner. What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Well, Isabella, I must say, that I'm a little bit concerned," my teacher looks down and shakes his head, "I'm aware you went through some difficult things last year." At that remark I hear myself inwardly groan. I have to deal with my problems on a daily basis, I don't need people throwing it back in my face. "But, that doesn't give you the excuse for your school work to be lacking so much."

"Lacking? My grades in this class are good. Great, actually," I argue.

"Isabella, please don't mistake me for a fool. I know Edward is doing most of the work and participation. You manage to do well on your exams because you're a smart girl. If you applied yourself we wouldn't be having this conversation."

I glance down to the floor, not wanting to look at my teacher directly. I hate feeling shame and I'm about an inch from that feeling right now. "I'll try harder, Mr. Banner. You have my word."

He clasps his hands together, "I'm sure you will. Maybe I'd believe you if this was the only class you were having issues with, but it isn't. I've spoken with your other teachers and they're saying the exact same thing. You're present in class but you aren't really here. It's more than the grades, Isabella, this is your senior year. It means a lot that you do well and right now you are just getting by."

I want to say something, but nothing registers in my brain, the shame I hate feeling is now setting in and all I want to do is crawl in my bed and sleep. Mr. Banner continues on with his lecture, "I think this needs to be dealt with now, before we get too far into the year and it's too late to handle. I've spoken to the principal and he wants to speak to you and your parents tomorrow morning before school."

I want to scream. I'm doing all I can do, I'm trying. There's not more I can allow myself to do. It's draining and every time I wake up in the morning I feel like I'm drowning. I'm doing this on my stomach, but I'm still doing it. I may be kind of absent in my own presence, but I'm still doing fairly well, academically. Isn't that what's important, first and foremost? I sigh in defeat. I could argue till my throat is sore, kick and scream like a five year old, but what good would that do?

"You may go." Just as I get to the door, Mr. Banner says, "Do yourself a favor, Isabella, listen to what Principal Caius has to say."

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Principal Caius's office is like something out of a Victorian novel, all decadent and dark. Never-ending book shelves take up three walls of his office, and I wonder how one person can own that much literature. Everything looks creased and old, well worn and used. Thick, burgundy drapes hang from the picture window behind his mahogany desk. It's all very spooky for a high school principal's office, but to each is own.

I've been here twice in the four and half years that I have attended this school.

Once in freshman year, when Kate and I got into an argument about my being chosen to play Juliet in our ballet class's rendition of _Romeo & Juliet_. It started out verbally and ended physically, with me pulling her hair and Kate kicking my shins. Neither of us were allowed to dance in that recital.

The second time I sat in these abnormally large leather seats, was just a few weeks after Kate died and I made the decision to repeat my senior year, instead of finishing up the next couple of months.

I sit between my mother and father now, anxiously awaiting the headliner of this meeting to come and address us.

"Renee, calm down already. The man hasn't even come in here yet and you're a bundle of nerves," My father gripes as I turn to my mother and see her knee bobbing up down the way mine does when I'm nervous.

"I'm sorry, Charlie, but this place is just suffocating and I don't think I can take anymore bad news."

I lower my head at that, my heart cracking a little bit. All my actions are causing this result and it makes me feel awful.

Just before I can allow myself to crawl deeper in the hole I keep digging, Principal Caius glides into his office, shutting the door behind him. He's a tall, lanky man, in his mid forties. Well dressed in a polished black suit, like he should be on a cover of a magazine rather than head of a school. "Mr. and Mrs. Swan, Isabella," he shakes each of our hands as he pulls out his chair and sits down across from us.

"I've asked you hear today to discuss Isabella's problems with school," Principal Caius makes eye contact with me briefly and then focuses on my parents. "I have been hearing from her teachers that she's been withdrawn. They're concerned, and frankly so am I. It's very important that I keep tabs on the children at this school. We have a very high esteemed curriculum, I don't want to see Isabella fall behind. Or make the same mistake as last year."

My father sighs and rubs his chin the way he does when he's about to give up, "I understand what you're saying, Mr. Caius. Her mother and I are very worried about her too. It's not only at school, it's at home too."

Principal Caius nods in sympathy and then he starts speaking directly to me, "I know you had an extremely hard year last year, Isabella. I can't even begin to fathom how you're getting through it. Sometimes in situations like these, you can't do it alone. To heal, you sometimes need help."

My body goes rigid and I feel my mom place her hand on top of mine and I uneasily pull it away from her. I have a bad feeling where this conversation is starting to go. "I'm healing fine."

"I can't say that I believe that, dear." I know he says it in a comforting way, but in my ears it sounds like a sneer. "I feel it's in Isabella's best interest if she attend a grief counseling program for teens each weekend for a couple of weeks. It's here, every Saturday morning in the gymnasium. It's run by Esme Platt, very sweet woman, all the children just adore her."

"I don't need therapy," My voice is like ice. I tried that before, it didn't work. It's not something I care to repeat any time soon.

"It's hardly therapy. Ms. Platt is a counselor, she's someone to talk to. It being a group thing, no one is embarrassed or ashamed. You'll see that you aren't the only one going through something life altering." Principal Caius places is his palms on his desk and leans into me, "I think your parents would vouch for me in saying that you need this, Isabella. It's not fair to you or your family anymore. You have to get passed it, and with help, you will."

He's pulled out the big guns now.

Parental and familial guilt.

And I'm such a sap that I give up the fight and agree.

I tell him that I'll go. Principal Caius hums in agreement, "See, progress already! It was a pleasure to take this time with you, Mr. and Mrs. Swan. I feel this is the step in the right direction." He ushers us out of his office. My mom gives me a kiss on the cheek and my dad squeezes my shoulder before leaving.

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Emmett finds me at my locker, his face scrunched up in a concerned look. "Don't start, I'm sick of that look," I say as I'm getting my books out for English.

"What look?"

"The 'Izzy is going to shatter into a million little pieces any minute' look. It's the kind of look those women give Kelly Bensimon on The Real Housewives of New York."

Emmett yawns and the look of concern falls from his face. He just doesn't get my love for bad reality television. He playfully punches my arm and I stumble, dropping my books on the floor. He laughs and I roll my eyes, "You're such a moose, idiot."

"And you're such a klutz, know it all." He bends down helping me right my books and picks them up for me, "How'd the godforsaken meeting go?"

"Oh just peachy," I say sarcastically. "I've been reduced to Saturday morning therapy."

"Fuck," Emmett says.

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly."

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The shrill buzzing of my alarm clock wakes me up at eight on Saturday morning. Kiss sleeping in on the weekends goodbye because this is what my life has come down to.

I maneuver myself out of bed, head to the bathroom, picking up random pieces of clothing along the way. Twenty minutes later, I'm showered and dressed. Deeming myself acceptable in a gray hoody and a pair of jeans. My usual weekend wear, I really don't know how to dress for therapy, I feel like I'm going to need some sort of metal armor.

"Isabella, time to go!" I hear my mother shout from downstairs.

I'm pissed that she's taken up the opportunity to drive me. Emmett is most likely still sound asleep in his bed. He doesn't rise before noon on the weekends. Lucky bastard.

I take the stairs one step at a time, still tired from waking up early, my eyes still feel foggy. My mother stands by the front door with her arms crossed, toe tapping at my slow pace, "Let's go, session starts at nine."

Riding in the car with my mom is both agonizing and annoying. She's one of those creeper drivers. It's like when my mom enters the driver's side, she becomes a seventy-five year old lady who can't see above the dashboard so she creeps down the street. A drive that should take five minutes can take up to twenty with her behind the wheel. "I thought you didn't want me to be late," I huff.

"You know what I hope comes out of these sessions? A nice attitude adjustment."

I want to go for the gold and say: _Don't hold your breath_. Instead I settle for silver and reply with, "You never know, miracles can happen."

"Ah, I hope so. Because you're in desperate need of a miracle, My Bell," my mom promptly glances over at me with a big grin on her face. I know she's being playful with me, trying to get me to laugh. She only calls me 'My Bell' when she feels exceptionally affectionate towards me. I decide to indulge her, she's my mother after all, and more than missing Kate, I miss her. I smile, instead, only slightly and turn my head to view out the window.

Once we arrive at St. Volturi's, I hastily get out of the car , knowing that I'm already late. "I know, I know, I'm sorry! You know how I hate to drive fast," She apologizes as I shut the car door.

I mumble to myself, "Not fast, mom, drive like a normal person."

"Attitude adjustment, that's all I'm saying!" she calls out in my direction from the open car window.

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Being in school on a weekend just blows. I mean it really sucks. It's like oil and water, it just doesn't mix. And it's feels very weird, like you left something at home or locked your keys in the car. That's how I feel right now, completely unbalanced.

I feel even more out of place when I enter the gymnasium and the double doors slam loudly behind me. It makes the handful of people who are casually standing around the gym talking to one another, all turn around and look at me. I surely know how to make an entrance.

Before I can move or fumble around to the nearest chair, I hear a soft but sweet voice greeting me. "You must be Isabella," I look to the front end of the gym to see a woman with wavy light brown hair and an inviting smile on her face. "We've been expecting you."

"I'm sorry, I'm late," I faintly say.

"No worries. We're very flexible here," Ms. Platt clears her throat and her voice rises a little bit louder to address the rest of the people. "All right, everyone, find a seat and get comfortable." I take in everybody around me as they find a spot in the circle of chairs formed around the small section of the room. Certainly, they know each other well, because most choose a seat where they are sitting next to a friend.

The loner in me, however, is disappointed to realize I can't really hide. The chairs being in the shape of a circle make it very fucking difficult. No end and no beginning, which means whichever seat I pick, I'll be sitting next to someone.

I end up selecting a seat near what I assume is the end of the circle. Next to me a tall girl with long, dark hair shyly smiles at me, and sits down, her eyes are focused on the ground.

Ms. Platt speaks again, "All right, Edward, will you pass out the papers I gave you? Make sure each person gets one."

An alarm sounds off in my head. Wait a second. Edward? Cullen? Boy that hates me with a sheer passion? Oh no, this cannot be happening.

It wouldn't be my life, if something this colossal and full of crap didn't happen. Because of course it's happening.

He starts at the other end of the circle, back facing me, but I know it's him. Just by his messy, bronze hair and tall body. He quickly makes his way around the circle, and lastly, lands on me. We make eye contact as he hands me the paper and I'm the first to break it. Because as much as I want to say that I could really see myself falling for this guy, just on physical attraction alone, I so don't want him to see or know the problems I have. They are mine and mine alone, and I hate that a group of people I don't even know, will know my secrets. I could curse Principal Casius for sending me here.

And because it's the only chair not taken, Edward Cullen sits down next to me. I inhale sharply. I can tell out of the corner of my eye that he isn't his normal, staunch self. He's looser and more at ease. There's even a smirk on his face, like he's finally getting this joke too.

"Everyone," Ms. Platt says, "I would like you take the hand of the person sitting beside you and recite the prayer that's printed out on the paper Edward handed to you."

I feel the girl next to me grip my right hand, and then I feel Edward lift my stiff left hand to his, he coaxes my fingers apart and weaves his through mine. His palm is cool to the touch and he holds on tightly to my hand as if he doesn't want to it let go.

In unison we all recite the Serenity prayer: _God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference_.

My right hand is dropped fast from the girl's clutch, but Edward holds onto my left for a few more moments and then he places it back onto my lap. I'm squirming on the inside, how can he be this relaxed and gentle now when only a few days ago he looked as if I made him sick?

I don't have time to ponder this idea because Ms. Platt immediately starts rambling on about introducing ourselves to one another, "I'm Esme Platt, you may call me Esme, I prefer it, actually. Most of you know me from previous sessions. I see most of the same kids are here, there's few new faces. Let's go around and say your name and why you are here, shall we?"

My eyes follow to each kid that announces their name and reason. One boy, Ben Cheney is here because he has a sister with a terminal illness. Jessica Stanley, who I always took for stuck up and a gossip, resides here because she has a recovering alcoholic father at home. Another boy, Mike Newton, his father, a Chicago cop, got injured on the job and is now paralyzed.

I knew about Mike, my dad worked with his father for a long time on the force. We we're all very sad about what happened to Mr. Newton, a kind man who didn't deserve the hand he got dealt.

That's just it though. None of these kids deserve the hand that they're getting dealt either. Angela Weber who begins to cry when she tells us all how she lost her mother a year ago due to a longtime battle with breast cancer. It breaks my heart. Maybe it's because she says it so brokenly through her tears or maybe it's because it's a daughter crying for her mother, I don't know, but I find myself rubbing her back soothingly. She leans her head on my shoulder till her crying eases up.

Esme pauses till she feels Angela is calm enough and then she looks to me, "It's your turn now."

I go tense, my spine straightening at the simple words. My turn to announce my name and my reason. And I'm not ready, I don't think I'll ever be ready. Saying it out loud only makes it more real. Even more painful than that dull ache I feel every single day.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath and then I feel a weight on my left hand. When I open them, I see that Edward has covered the top of my hand with my own. I turn my head to face him, his deep green eyes gazing into mine. I can almost hear him gently telling me to _go ahead, you're all right_.

"I'm Isabella Swan, and my best friend Kate Denali committed suicide last February."

Edward's hand doesn't leave mine the rest of the session, he only grasps it tighter.

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.

We don't talk about much that day, in fact, Esme does most of the talking. She makes us familiar with the type of talking we will do here, how long the sessions will go for and she finishes up by saying that if we need to speak to her one on one, that's she's always available for that.

I'm still impartial to this whole thing. I don't hate it with the complete negativity that I did before, but I'm can't say that I'm directly open to any of it either. I don't see how talking about my sorrow will make me feel better, but it's only been one session.

Hey, who knows, maybe I'll end up being a chatter box by the end of this, maybe I'll get to talking and I won't stop. Maybe I'll even cry the way that Angela Weber did. Let it all out and I'll be ultimately cured and the guilt will be abolished. I'll ride off into the sunset, happy and warm.

I doubt it. But one can dream, can't she?

"Do you have a ride home?" I'm taken out of my daydream when I notice that most everyone has left, except Edward. Esme is on the other side of the gym gathering things into a bag of hers, gearing up to leave.

"Uh, yeah, my mom. She's probably in the parking lot waiting," I motion for the door as I stand up.

Edward nods at my statement and stands up too, his hand is no longer holding mine, instead they're stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. "I'm glad you came. I mean, I know it's not easy, but Esme makes it less hard."

"Yeah, she's very nice. I like her," I say matter-a-factually. And then I remember that Edward didn't say what he was here for. My curiosity gets the better of me and I decide to ask him, "So, what's the reason you're here anyway? You never said."

"Oh, no reason, actually. I help Esme out on the weekends. I plan on going into musical therapy as a career in the future. Totally different from this, but I like helping people and I like to see how Esme interacts with everybody. Gives me some insight, I guess," he shrugs.

I stare at him without saying anything, I'm just stunned he's said this much to me. An awkward silence seeps into the air and Edward removes one hand from the pocket of his jeans and places it behind his neck, rubbing it roughly back and forth. "I should probably go. Thanks for, um, that during group. It helped. A lot," I practically choke on the words.

Edward goes still and his hand leaves his neck, his arm falling to his side. He looks into my eyes with this heart-clenching wonder in them. It takes him a while to form the words he wants to say, so instead of rushing off to leave, my feet stick like glue to the ground. "I feel like I need to introduce myself to you again."

I impatiently blurt, "You never really introduced yourself to me at all. You just ignored me." I snap my mouth shut and my cheeks feel like they're burning a bright crimson color.

Edward smiles crookedly and my knees feel as though they're going to give out from under me. "I'm sorry about that. It's hard for me... especially around people I don't really know..." He motions his hand to mine and takes it again, this time giving it a firm shake, "I'm Edward Cullen."

I think to myself, **maybe**. Maybe this is _my_ good part.

_**I see you there, **_

_**Don't know where you come from.**_

_**Unaware of a stare from someone.**_

_**Don't appear to care that I saw you and I want you.**_

_**My own two hands will comfort you tonight, tonight.**_

_**Say when.**_

– **Say When – The Fray – **

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	5. Tragedy

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N:** Next full chapter should be up over the weekend. Remember to read & please review! :)

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**Lights: _Looking Back_ – Tragedy **

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_To understand Kate, you would have to understand Sasha. Or, at least try to anyway. Her reasoning. Her life. Sasha was a great many things._

_Before she was Sasha Denali, mother of three and wife to Anton, she was Sasha Ivankov. She grew up in St. Petersburg, Russia in an upper class family. An only child, the apple of her parents' eye. She was pampered in childhood, and told that when she got older she could be anything that she wanted to be._

_This type of constant encouragement led her to dance from an early age. Sasha took to ballet, a Russian right of passage, like a fish to water. With her first fouette turn, she was addicted, taken into a labyrinth and never wanting to know a way out._

_All her years of lessons, practice, and schooling paid off and when she was eighteen years of age, she was asked to join the Mariinsky Theatre. Within her first year there she was appointed soloist._

_There was no where to go but up and her head was held high in the air as though no one or nothing could touch her._

_Life changes in a heartbeat._

_Without any warning, Sasha's beloved father died in his sleep one winter night, leaving his wife and daughter with an impossible financial mess to clean up. Sasha swiftly dropped out of the ballet company she was dancing for to take care of her mother._

_A snap of her fingers and her dreams were vanished._

_An opportunity arose, and Sasha moved to America to live with extended family and to take a job at a doctor's office, sending the money she earned back to her mother in Russia._

_It was there that she met Anton Denali, a handsome middle-aged doctor, who fell for her fair beauty instantly. He was kind and thoughtful and had his heart set on taking care of Sasha, whisking her away and beginning a new life with her._

_Sasha, who had lost hope in most things concerning life, agreed to his proposal. She had a heartsick mother back home to fend for after all and Anton was more than prepared to understand that this arrangement was not so much about love, it was more about convenience._

_They were married and shortly after Sasha became pregnant with her first baby, a girl called Irina. It was like life had just started for her, the joy of creating and holding a little baby in her arms renewed Sasha, she finally felt what true love was like._

_Ballet took a startling halt to this love. This love was forever; never beginning and never ending._

_Two years passed, and Tanya was born, Kate followed a year later. Three blonde, blue eyed, baby girls, their mother's physical features drawn across their faces._

_When I met Kate, and fell into her friendship, I looked at Sasha as my second mother. She was bright eyed and smart, loving and caring. She took care of me just as my mother did. Her fondness of dance is what drew me to keep going even when I really wanted to quit at such a young age. I was clumsy and heavy footed, not at all elegant. But, Sasha encouraged me to continue, that with practice I would get better._

_And, I did._

_It was simple for Kate, she took to it immediately, just like her mother. I had to work at it. The work was worth it in the end. There was nothing like being out on a stage with people watching you, applauding you. It was consuming. I learned this at the age of five when I wore a daisy consume and flailed around on my tip toes, trying desperately to interpret a flower swaying in the wind._

_I have many memories of Sasha._

_I remember sitting on the large living room floor of the Denali house in front of the fireplace with Kate at my side and Sasha in front of us telling tales of her time at Mariinsky Theatre. Showing us photographs of her in costume, dressed as Odette in Swan Lake, a feather white dream._

_I knew then why Kate loved Swan Lake so much._

_I remember going to the ballet for the first time when I was seven years old and seeing The Nutcracker during the holiday season. Snow sticking to the sidewalks of Chicago, the city lit up with white Christmas lights all around. It became an annual tradition with the Denali Clan and I tagged along with them._

_There were memories that didn't involve dance, either._

_Memories of baking with Sasha, making traditional Russian pastries. Making a mess of her pristine kitchen with flour and laughter. Learning about her heritage and where she came from. Having weekly dinners with the family, my parents and brother joining in too. Kate and I teasing and annoying Irina and Tanya till they slammed their bedroom door in our faces._

_Our lives blurred together into one family. One universe._

_I remember when Sasha became pregnant with her first baby boy._

_I remember when she went into labor and after a long, agonizing birth, the baby was stillborn._

_I remember seeing the strong happiness Sasha had for herself and her family, slowly bleed out of her._

_And, I remember Kate, at ten years old, running to my house one Saturday morning. Her face red and swollen from crying, gasping for air while telling me that she had found her mother lifeless in bed that day, an empty bottle of pills beside her._

_I could never comprehend what it was like to lose a family member, especially a mother. The thought was so horrible that I never dared to imagine it for a long period of time._

_For Kate it was as if she had lost her right arm._

_That first year after Sasha's death was like a never-ending black cloud above us all. When it finally passed and things started to shift to a more normal routine, that innocence Kate had once had, no longer existed._

_Calmness left and turbulence followed._

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	6. Chapter Three: October

Revised on 09/27/2011.**  
><strong>

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N:** Remember to leave a review when you're done reading. Thanks! :)

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**Lights – Chapter Three – October**

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As the summer heat winds down and the tinge of fall weather sets in, I spend the majority of the following weeks more awake than I've ever been this year. As much as I don't want to admit it, the people I'm surrounded by daily, play a big part in this unlikely change.

And as much as I also really don't want to admit this either, Edward Cullen is about eighty percent of the equation. I spend a frequent amount of time gathering as much information as I can about him.

I caught Edward reading _The Great Gatsby_ in the cafeteria, one day, before our usual crew sat down for lunch. My heart fluttered a little bit at that, I won't lie. Fitzgerald owns me. You can have those willowy period romances, give me The Jazz Age any day, thank you very much.

"It's about love, money, and status. But really," Edward said with assertion. "I think it's about first love. That sometimes it's never-ending. No matter how many years go by. Gatsby did all he could do to get back into Daisy's vision." He pushed up his black frames from sliding down his nose.

Yes, Edward Cullen wears glasses to read. I giggled on the inside when I found out.

Perhaps a little on the outside, as well.

He didn't appreciate that at all.

Edward spoke his statement so strongly though, that my heart did more than flutter. It quite possibly skipped a beat. I loathe the cliché-ness of that truth.

It's been easy to talk to him, he's no longer resistant or stoic. Biology class is a shared load now, I figured if he was nice enough to be friendly with me, I ultimately should take the time and actually do the work with him. It was only fair.

I haven't been acquainted with the extremely talkative Edward that Alice had spoke of in the very beginning of the school year but I take what I can get. I learn new things about him everyday, mostly by accident and my horribly awkward timing.

While walking to my calculus class through the school's courtyard, I spot Edward sitting at one of the outdoor picnic benches. He's slumped over on the wooden table, his head nestled in the make-shift pillow of his arms.

I forgo class for a bit, wondering why he's not rushing to get to his next one. I call his name while walking up to him and get no response.

"Earth to Edward!" I say, louder than before.

I spot a white cord dangling between him and the table and figure he's listening to music. Even with those earphones shoved into your ears it's still easy to hear, at least it is for me and there's also the fact that I don't see the other wire dangling on his opposite side.

I furrow my eyebrows and nudge the leg of the bench with my foot, "Back to ignoring me, Cullen?"

Edward's head shoots up and he twists his head towards mine with a startled look on his face. When he comprehends it's me, his features go to ease, a lazy smile spreads on his lips.

I begin to talk again but Edward holds his index finger up, signaling me to stop speaking. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small, plastic device and stretches to the left side of his head, placing the instrument inside his ear.

"All better now. What were you saying?" He asks.

"You're deaf?" I blurt out.

Edward only laughs, "As a doornail. That a problem?"

I blush slightly, "Fuck, sorry, that was rude. No, of course not. I just never noticed."

"Yeah, that's kind of the point. My aid is basically clear, you can't really tell unless you already know," he explains.

"It's just your one ear, then?"

He nods his head, "Yeah, just the one. I have a good amount of hearing in my right. Fully deaf in my left."

"How'd you lose your hearing?" I ask, curiously and then quickly realize that maybe it's not my place to question, so I follow up by saying, "I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

"Nah, not at all. I was prone to a lot of middle ear infections when I was a baby. Eventually it took it's toll, I guess. I lost most of my hearing in my left ear when I was around five or so."

I sit down cross the table from Edward, "And you take out your hearing aid because why?"

Edward rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "So inquisitive." I mimic his eye roll and huff a sigh at his sarcasm. "I like listening to music in silence. I can't put the earphone in my other ear, so I take it out and listen to the music with just my good ear."

"Makes sense. Whatcha listening to?"

He slides the other speaker across the table. "Here, listen for yourself."

I pop the tiny bud into my ear and begin to hear the soft strumming of a guitar and the easy voice of a male singer.

_**I tell my love to wreck it all,**_

_**Cut out all the ropes and let me fall.**_

The lyrics are poetic and melodic and I feel an emotional pull with it. "What's it called?"

" 'Skinny Love' by Bon Iver."

"It's pretty. I like it," I inform Edward while the song comes to a close and I pull out the earphone, handing it back to him.

"Yeah," Edward agrees, his eyes glued to mine, "It is."

I learn that day, above anything else, Edward has an immense love for music.

We're late to both our classes.

Bummer.

I'd choose a music discussion with Edward Cullen over a boring math class any day of the week.

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I get the itching feeling in my limbs every couple of hours in the day. The urge to have that delightful pain in the tips of my toes, to have my legs twirl beneath me is over-powering.

It's so incapacitating sometimes, that I find myself absently coming into the vacant studio between my classes. I spend my free periods here more than I can count, just to feel the electric pull this large room has on me.

I remove my shoes and drop my schoolbag at the door, tiptoeing across the hardwood flooring. My fingers drift to the smooth metal barre, cascading along it's length. Memories flood my senses. Hours were spent here perfecting any particular move.

I wrap my fingers tightly around the circumference of the barre, straightening my back and lifting my chin, my arm rises up in a pose. Rond de jambe; circle of the leg. My right leg is unbending, it moves in sweeping circular motions, my toes are gliding along the smooth-textured service

It feels foreign, yet it feels natural. I gave up dance so fast that I didn't have a chance to mourn it and feeling it now is hard to describe. The push and pull of it is addicting. I want to keep feeling the straining and stretching in my muscles. I don't want it to ever go away.

I remove myself from the barre and walk to the center of the floor. The glass mirrors envelope me, reflecting every angle of my body and in the back of my mind I hear classical music playing. I position my body, lowering my torso in a bow, rising, and then skipping two steps forward. I leap into the air, my legs form a split-like stance, and when I land I can see Edward leaning against the frame of the door.

I'm winded and my breathing is a bit choppy. This absence has made me out of shape, to say the least. Suddenly, I'm angry with myself, six months ago I would have never let that happen. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough. You're really good."

"Shit," I mutter as I move to start putting my shoes back on.

Edward relocates himself closer to me, "I know you were a big dancer here before and I know why you stopped and everything. But-"

I cut him off before he gets the chance to finish his sentence, "Look, you're nice and I like you and all that crap. But no offense, you have no idea why I stopped dancing so don't pretend like you do." I stand, grab my bag, and coldly walk passed him out the door.

I can hear Edward calling me, following me. His pace is quickly catching up to mine as I head outside of school, to my destination behind the building.

"Isabella, I'm sorry, honestly."

"Don't call me Isabella. It sounds weird coming from people my own age. I hear it enough from my parents and teachers."

He chuckles, "Izzy?" He questions.

"Ugh," I grunt. "I really hate that nickname."

"Everyone calls you that, though."

My back is pinned against the brick wall behind me, and I slip down to the ground, lifting my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. Edward walks over and sits down next to me. "I know. I've always been called that. Doesn't really fit me though, I don't think."

"No, it doesn't."

I turn my head to him and playfully swat his arm, "Gee, thanks, you're nice."

"What? I'm just agreeing with you. I never thought of you as Izzy."

"Well, what exactly do you think of me as then, hm?"

"Bella," Edward says thoughtfully.

I can feel myself blush a little bit. "You're going to call me Bella?"

"Yep, from now on, you're Bella."

I smile at the way he says my name. An actual, real smile. "You shouldn't be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have snapped at you, I'm sorry for that."

"It's all right. So, I'm assuming dancing is a sore subject, then?"

"You would be assuming correctly. I don't do it anymore."

"Didn't look that way a few minutes ago. Looked like you were in your own little world in there."

"That was a fluke. I don't even know why I was in there in the first place," I say. "If we're going to be friends, Edward, ballet is off limits. Okay?"

A crease forms between Edward's coppery eyebrows. "What about group?"

"That's different. If Esme asks me about it, I'll answer. But you and me, or anyone else for that matter, it's just not something I want to discuss. Not yet, anyway. It's painful and I really don't want to go there right now."

Edward turns to me, his face all hard and serious. "Bella, when you feel like you need to get something off your chest, you can, you know. With me."

"And how would you suggest I do that, Edward? I can barely talk out loud when I'm in group," I roll my eyes.

"You tell me you need a moment and I'll take out my hearing-aid. Whisper what you need to say in my bad ear. I'll turn a deaf ear to it," he openly tells me and laughs at his ironic statement. "It'll be like saying it privately so no one knows, but also like talking to someone because I'm here with you. By your side."

I laugh a tad at his idea. Not that it's funny or stupid, or anything like that at all, because it's none of those things. It's a little bit crazy, yes, but it's more than that.

It's exactly what I need.

For the second time in such a short period of time, I feel an honest smile placed on my face.

In the distance, I hear the clicking of footsteps in the background and then a sing-song voice saying, "Edward! You're skipping class, deadbeat!"

Edward laughs and shakes his head, he checks the silver watch on his wrist. "Actually, Alice, school is just about over in, 5... 4... 3... 2... 1..." The bell rings.

"Ass," she sticks her tongue out at him. "I'm disappointed in you, Izzy. My brother is a bad influence."

"She's Bella now," Edward corrects her and stands, pulling me up with him.

"Bella, huh?" Alice giggles. "I like it. Fits you," she pokes Edward in his stomach and giggles a little more.

He slaps her hands away, his cheeks a dark shade of pink. I've made the assumption that Edward gets mortified just as easily as I do. He's entire shit at hiding it too. Just like me. "Why are you here? You always wait by the car when it's time to go home."

"I was looking for Bella, actually. Emmett caught up to me a little while before school was over. He said he was trying to text you, but you never replied back to him."

I fumble for my phone in my the pocket of my sweater. I press it on to see my screen light up with three missed messages.

.

**Message Received 1:35PM:**

Iz - 4got 2 tell u football practice is after school.

**Message Received 1:50PM:**

get my msg? ur gonna have 2 wait to go home till after im done. around 5. k?

**Message Received 2:30PM:**

if u ditched, im gonna b seriously pissed.

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"Crap," I grumble. "Em's got football practice. I'm stuck here till he's done."

"We can take you home, right Edward?" Alice asks with enthusiasm. "Ooo! Better yet, come over to our house. You can see where we live," Alice snatches my arm and pulls me to the school parking lot.

I normally would be against this idea from the get-go. Having not been in someone's home in longer than I care to elaborate on, it feels about a hundred feet out of my comfort zone. That well-known fright rumbles in my abdomen, but I push forward with Alice.

I can't lie, I've been more than interested to see where the Cullen's reside.

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Edward settles into the driver's seat, puts the radio on to some indie rock station and glides down the side streets to his home.

At one of the stop lights, Alice lets out an exaggerated sigh and turns to me from the front seat she's sitting in, "Get used to this whiny rock crap. It's all that Edward's about."

Before I can reply, she's got her index finger pressed to the buttons on the radio, skimming to a song she likes. She settles on some god awful pop song and starts bobbing her head to it.

And then it dawns on me. I'm sitting in the backseat – leather seats, mind you – of a pristine silver colored Volvo.

I mean, Edward is driving a Volvo. A 2012 Volvo S60. An almost forty-flippin'-thousand dollar car.

If an eighteen year old kid is driving this kind of car, I can only imagine what his family's home looks like.

I don't have to wonder too long, because just as I'm thinking this thought, the Volvo pulls up to a long brick driveway. Edward turns off the car, Alice hops out, and me?

I just stare out through windshield. Because what my vision has come into contact with is unbelievable.

This house is a fucking mansion. I mean it looks like a god damn castle.

"Coming, Bella? Or do I have to carry you out?" Edward laughs.

"Christ Edward, you didn't tell me you were rich."

"That's because I'm not rich, my parents have money. Not me."

"That's exactly what rich people say."

"Whatever," he waves off my comment, "Pick your jaw up before you start drooling."

I get out of the car as he exits, the door clicks to a close. "Your sister's right. You are an ass."

"The biggest," Edward carelessly throws his arms around my shoulders.

We walk up the lengthy driveway, passing a basketball system along the way, I glance to Edward. "Played in middle school. Now it's only for fun, I can kick Jasper's ass at it though."

The house looks much bigger than it did from my view of it in the car. It's stone gray and cascades around the large amount of land it sits on, a balcony on the second floor looks over the front yard. Edward points to it, "That's my room." He states.

When we walk in, I'm not surprised that the interior is more extravagant than the exterior. It's subtle in it's lavishness though, the walls are painted in dark, lush colors while the furniture placed around the house is decorated in pale tones.

Windows are planted on each side of the house, allowing for clean, bright light to wash over the surroundings. It's comforting, warm, and open. Usually in immensely big homes, you never feel the warmth of family or love. It can feel cold and unemotional. In the Cullen's home, it's the polar opposite.

I feel, without even knowing, that there is unconditional love here. That there is laughter and joy here.

Edward leads me to the kitchen, where I see Alice is sitting on a stool along the kitchen island. Her books are splayed out in front of her and she's zeroing in on her assignments for the evening.

I hear the clanking of pots and pans and turn to see the backside of woman standing in front of the stainless steel stove. "Italiano tonight, my loves," the woman says as she turns around to face us.

"Ms. Platt?" I say, wide-eyed, completely astonished that she's standing in the Cullen's kitchen cooking their dinner.

She smiles lovingly, as she always does, "Isabella, I told you, call me Esme."

"Bella," Edward and Alice say simultaneously.

"Bella, of course." Esme looks to both Edward and Alice, her smile never faltering, "Edward, you obviously didn't tell her, I'm guessing."

"Tell me what?" I ask.

Edward clears his throat, "Esme is our mom. She likes to keep it professional at school, so she prefers that we don't call her mom when she's working."

I'm a bit taken off guard at his comments. I mean, I'm standing in the house where Edward and Alice live, and my grief counselor that I see every Saturday morning, is their mother. Surreal doesn't quite begin to explain what I'm feeling at the moment.

I gather that Esme is still married, at least she wears a ring on her left hand. I can see it shining in the light. "You go by Platt though, they go by Cullen," I nosily point between Edward and Alice.

Edward stifles a laugh, "Mom's form of independence."

"Oh hush, you're such a smart mouth sometimes," Esme says walking over to him and mussing up his messy hair even more. "I go by my maiden name when I'm working. I used Platt before I met Dr. Cullen. Naturally, I just decided to keep it after we were married."

I turn to Edward, "You're father's a doctor?"

"Yup. A Pediatrician, actually."

Esme chimes in, "I'm sorry that you can't meet him today, Bella. He'll be at the hospital most of the evening. He's been looking forward to meeting you after Edward has talked about you so much, recently."

I didn't think it was physically possible to get any redder than Edward has already been, but it totally is. His face looks like a plump tomato ready to burst. "All right, thank you for that mom. We're going now." I ignore his embarrassment. There's nothing I hate more when I feel the same, and people start to tease me about it. Pretending like the secret shame never occurred is the best thing for prone-blushers.

Edward motions for me to follow him and we walk back into the foyer, beginning to climb the stairs. He takes them two at a time, I take them slowly, skimming the wall beside me, decorated in family pictures.

I see Alice, mostly photographed with Edward at her side. A few on her own, one of her standing next to fashion designer Michael Kors (I told you, disgraceful reality TV junky here.) with a beaming smile plastered on her face. Bigger than the original Alice smile I'm usually presented with.

"That was taken in New York a few months ago. We went there to check out some colleges. Alice was looking at FIT, she wants to be a fashion designer. We all had to go to a fashion show, God, that was agony," Edward explains.

To be honest, I mostly rake through all majority of pictures on the wall, to see the ones of Edward. I spot him in a baseball uniform when he's about six or so, a blue cap too large for his head, the brim falls over his eyes as his head tilts back trying to look at the camera. "Quite the little sportsman, aren't we?"

"And you called me an ass," he says sarcastically.

Then there are the musical images. Edward older, sitting at a glossy black piano. His eyes are closed in concentration, looking as if he's one with the instrument in that moment.

Another of him sitting on a floor, a guitar propped on his lap, and a class of children gathered around him. This one is fairly recent, I can tell, he looks pretty much the same as he does now. I look to him, silently asking him what this particular picture refers to.

"I go to the hospital my dad works at sometimes and play music for the kids on the floor. Cheers them up, I guess," Edward answers shyly.

My heart strings pull at this. In my short friendship with Edward, I'm starting to think that he may be too good to be true. He's a do-gooder and an all around nice person. I can't say I'm any of those things. And what's more wonderful about him is that he's fully unaware of the greatness he has in him.

"Done ogling me yet?"

"I'm not even going to acknowledge that with an answer," I walk up the remainder of the stairs and precede with Edward to his room.

It's refreshing to see a teenage boy's room neat and put together the way Edward's is. My brother's is a gross disaster. Emmett drops his things on the floor and that's where they stay for the remainder of forever. Or whenever our mother decides to bare the war-zone to clean up whatever health hazard he's created.

Not Edward's room, though. In Edward's room, everything has it's own special place. His bed is made and his guitar is propped below the window sill. A wall of books and music are lined up tidily.

"Em so needs to take a lesson from you," I say and Edward laughs.

Edward walks over to his iPod dock, turns it on, and music fills the room. I flop down on his bed. Later, Alice joins us. We do our homework and study for a while. As it starts to get dark, Edward drives me home.

And just like that, all the anxiety I had about coming here, being in another person's house, melts away.

Because for the first time, in a very long time, I feel at home someplace.

This time, for once, it has nothing to do with Kate.

.

.

Without the intention of it, I find myself starting to cling to Edward and Alice more so than anyone else I've become acquainted with so far this year. I start to look at them as my life preserver in a sea of open water.

I don't know why I feel that way, why I decide that they are different from the vast majority of people who've tried to break through to me before. But, I do, nonetheless.

And the pain that I usually wake up with...

The crippling burn that is at its worst in the morning, fresh and new like a festering wound.

Well, that pain has dulled. Feels numb almost.

Numb is good. Numb is doable. Numb can get me through these school months even if it's only October.

I'm hopeful. And that's a very new sense of self.

What used to be disconcerting is not anymore. Like right now, for instance, I'm casually sitting crossed legged on top of Alice's bed as she hurriedly scatters through her closet searching for something to wear for tonight.

It's the thirty-first. Halloween. Alice keeps trying to push me to go to a big party some kids from school are having. I keep refusing as she keeps throwing pieces of her wardrobe on the floor in frustration. We've developed a pattern almost. I say no at her insistence and she throws down another article of clothing from her closest.

"You're coming to Homecoming than, right?"

I shake my head with a grin on my face, crushing poor Alice's hopes and dreams. Like hell I'll be going to Homecoming this year. Not after the shit-storm that rained down on my life last year.

"What? It's like a right of passage, Bella. You have to go!" Alice exclaims, her spiky black hair sticking straight up in annoyance.

"I believe that saying refers to prom, Al," I correct her.

"Same difference. It all matters in your senior year. Every little thing marks a new memory."

What she's saying may be true for someone who generally cares, but to me, she sounds like a Hallmark card. I roll my eyes and sarcasm stings my voice, "You forget, I already had my senior year."

A sly smile plays on her lips and her hands are on her hips. "Ah, but, you didn't finish it," she challenges.

"Nice try, but I'm still not going. Last year, Homecoming wasn't exactly memorable."

Alice fidgets, and I can see that she's a little nervous. "I doubt what happened last year, will happen this year," she says.

"What? You mean someone won't beat the pulp out of my boyfriend this year?"

Alice's mouth forms in a tight line, "From what I heard, Riley had it coming."

I dated Riley Biers for most of junior year and part of my senior year. It wasn't a first romance by any means.

I mean, there were a lot of firsts. He was my _real_ first kiss, my _real_ first boyfriend, that sort of thing. He even told me that he loved me six months into dating. Though I didn't feel it back, I wasn't even sure what real love was, I said it back to him.

A few nights after the L word was spoken between us, I let him take my virginity. It was fast, somewhat painful, and on the living room floor of his house while his parents weren't home. It's a memory I could do without.

Like I said, it wasn't a first romance where it was meaningful. Where I actually felt that warm spark of love.

Just for the fact that he knew it would be my first time, and he hadn't put any care into actually making it special for me, well, that should have tipped me off that he wasn't exactly the kind of guy I should have been surrounding myself with.

I can't put all the blame on Riley, for the most part of our relationship, he was a decent guy. Not particularly caring or sweet. But, overall, he was decent. Cute and popular too. And I was so fucking shallow at the time, it was like I had wool over my eyes.

Ultimately, I stayed as long as I did with him because having a boyfriend verses not having a boyfriend seemed like an easy decision all on its own. Enough for me to stay. I liked feeling wanted. It was rather consuming in a way, fresh and new.

I also had something Kate never really had. Which made the decision of staying with Riley even more valuable. She dated a lot of guys, hooked up with them too, but she never had a _**real**_ relationship.

The longing look she would give me when Riley and I were together, being gag worthy with PDA in public, made me want to jump up and down with joy.

I finally had _**something **_worth being envious of.

It was ridiculous, especially since this jealousy was over some guy, I know that now, but back then it made me happy. I was always the one lagging behind Kate. As much as I loved her, she was the star of our friendship. We were never really equals. She always came out shining no matter what she did. I'd follow behind, and I was all right with that. It never bothered me. Most of the time.

So, I suppose that brings us to Homecoming 2010. Senior year. Major first dance of the school year. Start it off with a big bang. All that jazz.

I rarely looked forward to dances. In my first two years of high school I pretty much abandoned going to all of them. As extroverted as Kate was, I was that more introverted. I enjoyed being around her, when it was just her and I. I soaked it up. When Kate was around other people, though, it was a different story. She molded herself to the group that she was engulfed by.

Going to extra school activities was discouraging, to say the least. It would start out okay, and then quickly go down hill. I'd get ditched for a more outgoing crowd.

Junior year was somewhat of a step up. I came out of my shell little by little. I met Riley, and that helped. I had a permanent date if I wanted to go to a themed dance. Except he was no better than Kate in those situations. He'd meet up with a group of his stoner friends and leave me to go smoke up.

I don't know why I was excited about my senior year homecoming. It was a first for me. Looking back on it, I could laugh, really. I felt so nostalgic about the whole thing at the time, so worried that my four years of high school were coming to a close when things were starting to get good.

At least I thought that things were starting to get good. You see, nothing is permanent.

After having that perfect first part of the night. The pretty pale blue dress that I wore, my hair, make-up, and nails all done just so. My pictures with friends and Riley coming out perfectly. Throughout that evening, I had one of the largest smiles on my face. Nothing could have brought me down.

Except of course, getting ditched, yet again. Only this time it wasn't by just Kate or just Riley. It was by both of them.

Finding them in a quite compromising position in the backseat of Riley's car when I went to go look for them severed the happiness I had for that night.

When both tried to argue the fact that they were sorry, that it meant nothing to either of them, I remember only looking at Kate, her guilty eyes looking anywhere but at me, and saying "Congratulations".

I turned around and walked home.

Three miles. In four inch heels and a too long dress trailing behind me, with Kate's "I'm sorry" ringing in the back of my head.

The following Monday when school resumed, I caught a glimpse of Riley at the other end of the hallway, a fat lip, swollen nose, and a black eye all accessorized on his face. He was found, clutching the pavement of the parking lot, by his friends about a half hour after I left. Nothing else was said and Riley kept his mouth shut, turning off all communication to me.

It was a hasty and amicable breakup without any explanation. I didn't feel upset about it. A year and a half relationship down the drain and I didn't feel anything but relief when it was finally over.

Homecoming was horrible, yes, but it was only the start of the fast downfall that followed that year.

"Whether he deserved it or not, Alice, isn't the point. It should not have happened," my eyes shift up to Alice who is standing above me looking like I've just socked her in the gut. "Who are you going with?" I knew a topic change was in dire need.

She hesitates for a moment and then starts with her usual girlish giggle, "Jasper. He doesn't know it yet, but I'm asking him tonight at the party." She puts on a headband with cat ears on and holds up a pair of black leather pants. "I'm going as a cat, think it'll get his attention?"

I have to hand it to Alice, she can make anything look good and even with the most useless pieces of clothing she can turn them wearable in a matter of minutes.

"Me-ow!" I teasingly say, and Alice laughs some more. "Seriously, he'd have to be blind, Al. See, you'll have a great time at homecoming. Part of going is also having a date." And out of sheer nosiness I ask, "So, who's Edward going with?"

Alice's mischievous grin returns, "Why, Bella? Wanna go with my brother?"

My eyes widen but I don't say anything and Alice doesn't mention it again, she moves on with the conversation, "No one, I guess. He's never been big on the whole extracurricular activities thing."

_ Smart guy_, I think.

She continues, "He went last year but only because he was with Tanya and I begged him to go."

I swallow, the sound is loud in the now quiet atmosphere of Alice's room. My chest starts to constrict. "Tanya?" I ask, trying to hide the fear associated with the name that was only mentioned moments ago.

Alice bites her bottom lip, a nervous habit I find she uses when she thinks she's said too much.

"Yeah..." she hesitates, "Tanya Denali. Edward and her were together for a while last year."

Edward Cullen dated Tanya Denali. Tanya, Kate's older sister.

You've got to be kidding me.

.

_**Well, I feel stupid but it's something that comes and goes  
>And I've been changin', I think it's funny how no one knows<br>We don't talk about, the little things that we do without  
>When that whole mad season comes around<strong>_

_**Do you think you can cope? You figured me out?  
>That I'm lost and I'm hopeless<br>I'm bleeding and broken though I've never spoken  
>I come undone in this mad season<strong>_

– **Mad Season – Matchbox Twenty – **

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	7. Aftermath

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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**Lights: _Looking Back_ – Aftermath**

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I never told my parents about what happened after homecoming.

When my mom asked about the torn and dirty hem of my dress, I answered her by saying that I tripped and fell as I was getting out of the limo.

She gave me an odd look, knowing full well that I was lying. I was clumsy as a kid, but ballet nearly cured my klutz like behavior. I hadn't fallen in years, my balance was unfailing.

Mom didn't call me out on it or question me. She walked out of my room, leaving me alone and I could not have asked for more.

I destroyed that dress and everything that went along with it.

I ripped it to shreds with my bare fingers, tearing at the tulle and satin. When my nails began to throb from the pressure, I finished off the rest of the fabric with scissors, cutting the remains to bits.

The shoes, the corsage, the hair accessories. It all went.

I would have lit a match to the scrap pile that I made, let it burn to black ash. Instead, I settled for throwing it in a garbage bag and dumping it into the bin outside.

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I knew I shouldn't have, but I went to Kate's house the next morning. It was a habit, really. Even in fights, one of us would always end up at the others' place the following day.

I wasn't going to bring up last night, that much I knew. My experience with Kate, when things like this happened, though, nothing was as serious as this, she always would apologize. And I would forgive her.

It was a cycle. An emotionally unhealthy cycle, but a cycle nonetheless. A system that we perfected over the years of our battered friendship.

Sure, I was hurt. I was mad as hell. Why go there, though? I didn't want Riley back and I couldn't defend him either. Between the two of them, I would have chosen Kate. Hands down. I considered her my sister, my other half.

We both did some shitty things to each other. Jealousy was the third person in our relationship. As mad as I was at her, I wasn't mad enough to cut her out of my life over a guy.

When I entered her bedroom, I immediately felt a chill. Her room was cold as ice. Windows were open, letting the chill of the November air seep in. I clutched at my arms, rubbing them to warm myself as I ran to the windows and slammed them shut.

"What are you thinking? It's freezing," I muttered as I turned around.

The scene in front of me was unbelievable. It was almost noon, and Kate was still in bed. Not asleep, no, but sitting cross-legged and upright. Her hair was strewn up in a messy bun and she was dressed in baggy sweats. Entirely unlike her.

Kate was an early riser, always. She got up at six every morning and headed to the studio to practice for exactly two hours. On school days, sometimes she got herself going earlier. She stuck to that routine, it was bred into her. Today it was crystal clear she hadn't bothered to leave her room.

What shook me more than that was Kate's face. It was unusual to see her without makeup, naked and bare. But, more so, her face was red, tear stained. Her eyes were blotchy and puffy from crying. I could still see wet trails on her cheeks, making it known that the weeping was fresh.

It was rare that I saw Kate cry. When her mom died, she cried for days. I remember that without having to think about it. But, on a whole, Kate was a tough, hard person. Her emotions didn't bob to the surface like most peoples', she was good at hiding what was eating at her.

This though – this was an icy phenomenon.

"What's wrong?" I asked, standing at the foot of her bed.

Her normally bright, blue eyes were foggy and gray. She didn't look at me, she focused out the window, unblinking with glazed over sight, "Nothing. I was warm so I opened the window."

I shook my head, her voice was there but it wasn't her own. It was scratchy and faint. "No, I mean," I pointed to her face, "You're crying. What happened?"

Kate removed herself slowly from her bed and walked over to the window. "I'm sorry, Izzy. I'm so sorry," she brokenly said. A plea.

I followed her over, placing my head on her shoulder and my arms around her waist, hugging her, "I forgive you."

I did forgive her. As upset as I was with her, I refused to show it. Part of me wanted to scream at her for what had gone on the previous evening and another part of me wanted to thank her. That tie with Riley had been alleviated. A burden lifted.

I still had a brisk vibe standing behind her, standing in her room. Something was off and I could not place what it was.

I still can't. It's a feeling that I linger back on, trying to pinpoint what was wrong.

"You're the strong one between the both of us, Izzy. Remember that, okay?" She placed her hands on top of mine, they were cool and I reached around to grab them securely, heating them with my own.

"What are you talking about?" I laughed at her nonsense, "You're the strong one."

She shook her head. I couldn't see her expression. To this day, I wish that I had. Maybe it would have explained things, given me clues to understand what she had meant.

"No," Kate replied, "I'm not at all."

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	8. Chapter Four: November Part I

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**A/N: **Sorry it's been so long since my last update! This chapter is actually around 12,000 or so words but I've split it into two parts. The next part should be posted within a few days (it's done, it just needs to be edited.) Again, sorry for the wait, it took me about three weeks to write it (I only get an hour-two hours a day to myself so it's written sparingly but it'll get done, I promise!)

Also, I want to think whoever sent my story to The Fictionator's website. _Lights_ was featured in the 'What's PWNing You?' section. I feel honored. Thank you. A Twilighted Thread was started as well, for the story. Again, thank you. I highly appreciate it.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, subscribed, or favorited, it makes me so happy that this little story has readers.

If you would like a small preview of the next chapter, leave a review and I'll send ya PM of what's to come!

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**Lights – Chapter Four – November Part I**

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After Alice drops the 'Tanya & Edward' grenade in my lap, I go home. No words left to say or any sort of emotion on my face, I just get up and leave. Alice calls after me, saying that if I stay a while longer, Edward will be home soon, he can drive me.

But, at this point, I don't want to see Edward. This isn't his fault, of course. Who he dated or dates is his own business. The fact that it's Tanya Denali, though, gives me a chill down my spine. He could have made me aware of this sudden turn of events. Given me some kind of warning. Lesson the blow, at least. Instead, I hear it from Alice, who clearly looked like she shouldn't be saying anything when the words were suddenly leaving her mouth.

She had that 'Oh shit' expression on her face as she was talking. It would be kind of funny, actually, if it wasn't so fucking screwed up.

I haven't spoken to Tanya since Kate's funeral. Even then, I barely said anything to her. We were never exactly close, her and I. We got along, but Tanya looked at Kate as her little, annoying sister and I suppose she looked at me the same way.

I vowed, though, after everything that happened, I would never see the Denali's again. I know they blamed me, I could see it on their faces at the funeral. I know they still blame me.

And, they don't even know the half of it.

No one will ever know the rest of the story, can know the rest of the story. It's my secret, my secret to bury and that's how it will always remain.

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_**Ashes that I laid to rest**_

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I am a coward. I know this. But, how can I tell them that I know why she did it? That I saw her that night, that I was there second she gave up? That I didn't bother to stop her?

How can I shatter their hearts even more than they already are?

I will not break that family anymore. Eventually, they will heal, right?

I mean, I certainly haven't, but that's what is supposed to happen. Bad things happen to good people, but each day passes, seasons change, and slowly you heal.

I'm still waiting for that to kick in. But, maybe they have, maybe they're starting to see the brighter light at the end of the tunnel. I can only hope.

.

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I spend the last hours of Halloween ignoring Edward's text messages, – I gather Alice let him know of her accidental slip up – and handing out candy to neighborhood kids. It's been my chore since I turned twelve and was too cool to go out Trick or Treating myself. I always felt special, being the giver of goodies to the little ones all dressed up in different costumes. This year I feel nothing, it's precisely something I have to do to get through to the next event I have to accomplish.

I find myself realizing this is what happens. I seem to get better and then I take steps backwards, back to that dark, somber summer. It's becoming to be a pattern and this Tanya thing has set me off.

Of all the multitudes of costumes, Batman, vampires, Lady GaGa, Cheerio Cheerleaders, I spot one that stands out all on it's own. Leaves me cold. A young blonde girl in a ballet outfit.

"I'm a ballerina!" She shouts, happily. I nod and feel for the candy I'm holding, dumping whatever I grab into her plastic pumpkin bucket. She gives me a toothy smile, her front teeth missing, and skips away. I close the door, breathless and gasping for air.

My parent's abandon me for the upstairs at ten, yawning and telling me to get to bed soon. I agree, but don't listen. I stay up longer than I want to, waiting for Emmett to come home from the party Alice told me about.

He comes stumbling into the front door at one o'clock in the morning, trying to his best to be as quiet as possible. Which is serious work for Emmett, he always sounds like he's moving furniture when he enters a room.

He turns on the light in the living room, where I've been sitting in the dark for the last two hours, waiting. "Jesus Christ, You scared me! I thought everyone would be asleep by now."

"I'm hardly like everyone, Em," I say.

"That's true." He walks towards me and sits down next to me on the couch, "How come you're up so late? You've got group at nine, you should be sleeping."

I shrug, "Couldn't sleep. How come your home so late?"

"Had to take Rose home, she got wasted and threw up in the bushes outside of Amber's house. Not her most promising moment. I stayed with her for a while to make sure she was all right."

Rosalie Hale, drunk off her ass and vomiting. Now that would have been a site to see. Minus the puking part. I have that thing where I start gagging the second I see someone else getting sick.

"You must really love her," I say, looking up at Emmett.

His eyes light up and he laughs softly, "Yeah, I do. She's having a hard time now. I think that's why she lost her cool at the party tonight."

"Why? What's going on with her?"

"She's applying to Pepperdine. Mailed her application yesterday and now I think it's finally sinking in that we won't be together next year. Rosie has a weird way of showing stress, she doesn't cry or anything. She bottles it up till it's released some other way. Like tonight with the drinking."

"You two have been together since your sophomore year. I think you're strong enough to survive the distance," I don't know if I believe that. I try to be comforting, but I'm terrible with advice. I'm guessing this is what you say in situations like these, so I keep going, "Besides, maybe you could apply there too. You know, then if you both get in, you'll be together."

"Maybe," He shakes his head, his brown curls falling over his forehead, "You know how I feel about Notre Dame, though."

Emmett and Notre Dame. It's been his dream to go there from the time he knew what college was. He'd spend every Saturday during football season planted on the basement couch watching the game on the big screen with dad by his side. It was their bonding moment, and also Notre Dame was dad's alma mater. That made Emmett want to go there that much more

"A scout has been looking at me, from Dame. Coach showed him some footage of me playing. He was at the game where we beat Mount Carmel. If I play well at the Homecoming game, there's a chance I could get a full scholarship there, Izzy."

My mouth drops open, I'm totally shocked about this. I shouldn't be, if there's something Emmett is fantastic at, it's football. I'm shocked, yes, but most of all I'm happy for him. "Em, that's wonderful. You deserve it."

"Yeah, well, we'll see. You're the first person I've told. Mom and Dad don't know anything about it. Rose doesn't either, I didn't want to upset her more. I didn't want to psych myself out."

He's kind of thrown me, my brother. We've shared a lot over the years and safe for Kate, Emmett was always the only other person who I could really talk to. He's non-judgmental, honest, caring and sorely straightforward – no bullshit.

But, he's just shared a secret with me. One that he hasn't told anyone else. He hasn't done that with me in more than a year. I feel honored.

"You'll do great. I know you will," I say quietly, looking at my hands.

"So, what's the real reason why you're up so late?"

I do something I haven't done in a very long time. I shift closer to Emmett and rest my head on his shoulder, "Alice told me Edward used to date Tanya. Did you know?"

Emmett sighs and wraps his arm around my waist, "Yeah, Iz, I did. I mean, we all hang out together. If it makes you feel better, they didn't go out for all that long."

I realize then, what his words mean, "I'm not jealous," I say. "I'm just... I don't know. I haven't talked to her since... you know. I never even knew she was with anyone, least of all Edward."

"You know how Tanya is. She kept things quiet, always."

"Have you talked to her at all?" I ask and immediately I'm afraid of his answer.

"Not since sometime in the summer. She asked about you, when we did talk. Said she had some things she wanted to talk to you about."

_ Oh God_, I think and my hands begin to shake.

Emmett swiftly covers mine with his own and says, "Forget about it. Tanya isn't even in the city, let alone the state. She's in Madison. At school. You know this." I nod my head in agreement. "You're doing so well, Izzy. Don't let this stop you."

_ You're doing so well. Don't let this stop you._

His encouragement vibrates in my brain, circulates around and around, never vanishing.

I want so much for him to be right.

.

.

Grief counseling is different this session.

Instead of gathering in a circle, rehashing our feelings over and over as per usual, as soon as we meet in the gym, we are ushered by Esme to the school's art room.

Easels are scattered across the room, with a blank canvas resting against the wood surface. It's a comfortable setting, soft, instrumental music plays on in the background. Propped up on the lower part of the classroom walls are several paintings in contrasting styles.

I see one of never-ending color. Thick, round swirls spill over the rectangular material. It stands out like neon in the night. An abstract dream that is both soothing and terrifying.

My range of view travels to the other side of the room, a larger, more dominate picture is set in the corner. From a far, all you can say is that it's a beautiful painting, water-colored and slightly out of focus of a boy playing a piano.

If I squint a bit, though, and center carefully on the scene in front of me, I see it's the picture at the Cullen's home that was on their hallway wall. The picture of Edward at the piano, in complete concentration, his hair wild and his forehead creased.

I hear a voice say to me, "I can't believe she brought that one. Think anyone will be able to tell it's me?"

I turn to face Edward who's standing directly beside me, sheepishly grinning at me. I ignore this and say, "Esme painted that?"

Edward's about to answer, his head starting to shake in his reply but Esme moves to the front of the classroom and begins to speak, "Sometimes," she begins. "When I'm stressed out or I feel sad, I pick up a brush and put my feelings on a canvas. We all do things that keep us centered, relax us if you will.

"Normally, I would ask you what you do when you need to calm down. I would ask you to explain to me why it helps you and so on. But today, we're going to try something new. Painting is said to calm the soul," Esme tells us. "I want each of you to take an easel and let you're imagination guide you. Paint what you feel. Even if you can't draw, swirl the brush around and see where it takes you."

I sigh and walk to an easel placed in the middle of the room. I drop my bag at my feet and sit on the stool that's placed in front of it. I pick up a paint brush and dip it in the glass of water that sits on the table located beside the easel. I shake off the remains of water and swirl the brush in the dark blue color of the palette in my hand.

On my right side, out of the corner of my eye, I notice Edward take the stool next to mine. He imitates my previous actions, take a brush, sinks it in the water, picks a color and glides it across the blank canvas.

I observe that Edward does everything with close attention and this isn't lacking. "Aren't you supposed to be watching us screw-ups rather than playing along?" I ask with a slight edge to my voice.

"Ah, picking a fight are we now?" he remains facing the easel but a smile crawls upon his face.

"I'm not picking a fight," I huff. "If I was picking a fight, you'd know it."

Edward says nothing, only chuckles and continues to paint.

"You could have told me, you know. It would have made things a lot easier."

"Told you what?"

I growl at his attempt at nonchalance, "Stop playing coy with me, Edward. Why didn't you tell me about Tanya?"

"Because I didn't think who I've gone out with would matter to you, that's why Bella. It's not relevant to you and me."

I turn away from him and shut my mouth. "Tanya and I are friends, we've been friends for a long time. My parents are friends with Dr. Denali. I mean, what do you want me to say?"

This breaking news stuns me. _His family knows the Denali's?_ So much so that I don't speak to him for the rest of the session. It's not that I don't want to, it's that I have absolutely no idea what to tell him. He's right, his association with Tanya or any of the Denali's really has nothing to do with me.

My love for Kate and her family was entirely my own. Just as my guilt is. It doesn't include anyone. It only holds me prisoner.

But what takes me aback more so than anything else, is that I never took the time to acknowledge Edward. Or Alice for that matter. How could I have not seen them? Seen him? I've thought that before, but now that I know he was so close in my world, I feel silly. Dumb almost.

It's like that message on that passenger mirror of a vehicle, 'Objects are closer than they appear.' Edward was so close to me, yet so far away. I was so blind to it.

As our Saturday session comes to a close, Esme takes the initiative to walk around the worked on easels and glance at people's work. She nods her head and comments on certain pictures. When she gets to mine, she tilts her head and let's out a, "Hmm..."

"It's bad," I say.

"No, not bad. Just, hm," there's that 'hm' again. "What is it supposed to be?"

Edward laughs and I glare at him. "Edward," Esme warns and he quiets on command.

"I think I was going for some sort of flower," I tilt my head now too, trying to understand what I was trying to make. The green stem is crooked and the blue petals look disfigured. A preschooler could make something better, no doubt about it.

"Well," Esme says, "There's no right or wrong." She touches my shoulder and moves away.

"I suck. Your mom is too nice to admit it." Edward smiles but holds back on the laughter even though I know he's dying to let it out. "All right, mister artist, what masterpiece did you paint?"

Edward leans away from the easel, allowing me to see his creation. It's a tree. A large, autumn colored tree that fills most of the canvas. Brown and gold, red and orange. Shades of color combined together making it look so real, as if this was a photo taken outside. It's unreal how Edward excels in everything I've seen him do.

"You seriously aren't human, are you?"

Edward lets out that snort of laughter he's been holding in. "Oh, I'm human," he says. "But, that so called flower looks like it's from another planet."

.

.

Edward insists on driving me home from group. Esme and him always take separate cars. The ten minute ride alone to my house with Edward feels like an eternity without Alice running her mouth in the front seat.

I get this sixth sensing feeling that Edward wants to say something to me. The way he is white knuckling the steering wheel gives it away. "Tense much?" I ask as we pull up to my house.

He sighs, "I want to ask you something but I don't want to freak you out."

I brace myself. Those have to be the worst words I've heard in a long time.

_ Don't freak out._

Why do people insist on starting a sentence with those words? It doesn't prepare the person on the receiving end. It only makes said person more vulnerable and nervous.

"Hey Edward, generally, when you want someone to stay calm you don't mention a potential freak out." Idiot.

Edward holds the steering wheel tighter and breathes deeply.

"I think you're the one freaking out, not me," I wave my hand in his direction. "Just ask me whatever you want. No freak out, I promise," I reassure him.

He turns to me, green eyes deep and clear, and glued to mine. "I wanted to know if you'd like to go to Homecoming together. Would you? I mean, we don't have to, I just kind of thought it would be nice – You and I – it – it might be fun..." he stammers out the last few words.

This is what he thought I'd get upset over? Him asking me to Homecoming? The feeling of upset doesn't even cross my mind. I'm actually quite flattered that he mustered up the courage to ask me.

And thoroughly surprised.

I shake my head and lower my eyes from his hypnotic hold. "It's not that I don't want to go with you," I say but Edward cuts me off before I get a chance to finish my sentence.

"Oh man," his voice is bordering on panic and he moves his hands to the back of his neck. I've seen him do this before, after my first session of grief counseling when we had our first awkward conversation. This must be a nervous tick.

I smile to myself as if this is something profound that I've discovered. It kind of is though, I like knowing small things that make up Edward's personality. I feel like a child almost, when every development is crisp. Wide-eyed and new.

I realize I've made him uncomfortable and that's he very near an attack so I unclasp my seat belt and move as close as I can to him, gingerly stroking his arm. "Sheesh, would ya let me finish?" I say playfully. "If I were to go at all, Edward, I would want to go with you. So, spending an evening with you is not the problem. It's just... I'm sure you heard about what happened last year..."

Under my soothing touch, his arm tenses up. I ignore this and push on with what I'm trying to tell him, "I know it's different now, but I really don't want to go. Nothing against you, it's me." That sounds lame. _It's not you, it's me. _

Except it isn't a lie. It is me. And I feel like a complete shit for hurting his feelings, but I barely have the heart to put effort into daily things anymore, least of all going out and preparing for a night of dress up.

It all seems so pointless.

Edward lets out a soft breath and he's more pliant now, collected. "I understand."

I can't shake the feeling that I've made him sad by my refusal. That's the last thing I want. "I'm sorry," I say, because it's all I can think of.

Before I can stop myself, the next thing out of my mouth baffles me, "Instead of going, we could, you know, just spend the evening together. Just the two of us."

Edward turns to me once more, grinning with that knee-buckling crooked smile he has. "Yeah?"

Really, how can I say no? It isn't possible with the look on his face. "Yeah," I say and then shake my head emphasizing my agreement.

"What would you want to do? Go out to dinner or something? See a movie?" he asks.

Those options sound nice. But they also all sound like first date material. As much as I like Edward, and if I delve deep into myself, I can say that I might possibly like him as more than just a friend.

As much as I might know that, I also know that I'm not ready. I've just found this friendship with him. I cherish it. I can talk to him. Even if I refuse to talk about things I desperately should talk about, I still talk to him. Changing that could mean losing something that's turned out to be so positive.

"Let's keep it casual," I say.

He shrugs, and I'm thankful he isn't insisting on something else we could do together, "Casual. That's cool. You could come over to my place then."

"Yeah, sure, well, I'll be there anyway," I respond, "Alice wants me to come over and help her get ready."

"All right. Sounds good." He still has that smile on his face, it hasn't faltered, except now it seems less brighter than before.

I take that as my cue to leave, I grab my bag and step out of the car. I walk a couple of steps and turn around when I hear him start the Volvo up and then quickly stride back to the passenger seat, motioning for Edward to put the window down.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything. I lean into the open window. "Thanks, Edward. For asking me. It means, um, it means a lot to me, that you did." I say but I refuse to make eye contact with him, it'll only make me rethink my decision for the casual hang out I suggested.

I scurry away from his car and try as calmly as I can to walk up the drive way to my house.

Something so new runs through me, flows underneath my skin down to my finger tips.

Excitement.

.

.

The first thing I do after arriving home is tell my mom about my 'Sort of Homecoming' invitation. I don't elaborate that I'm really not going after all. That instead of spending the evening at school, I'll be spending it with Edward, at his house – potentially alone for most of the night.

Alice made me aware of that little tidbit when she asked me to help her get ready a few days prior to Edward showing an interest about hanging out. Their parents had some weekend business trip, mostly involving Dr. Cullen. They'd leave at six on Saturday and wouldn't be back till sometime in the afternoon on Sunday.

I leave that out in my telling mom of the weekend plans following the end of this week. To be frank, she's ecstatic that I'm leaving the house without being told to. I'm turning a new leaf, apparently. – Her words, not mine.

It didn't dawn on me in the car that Edward suggested me to come over by his house knowing full well that his parents wouldn't be there. We'd be alone. Totally and completely alone. Together.

It'd be perfection for a teenage couple. Thank goodness Edward and I weren't a couple. We were just two friends sharing our time together instead of spending an otherwise boring evening alone. That's all.

The explanation sounds good in my head. I have a feeling that when I try to explain it to others, such as Emmett or Alice, it's going to sound like total bull.

I'm wrong though, Emmett is more than happy to cover for me. When I tell him about my plans, he pulls me into one of his tight bear hugs and crushes me to him for a few longer moments than necessary.

I'm grateful that he doesn't say something cliché like "This is progress, Izzy." He holds me and that's enough, because I know in my soul my brother is relieved to see his sister act normal instead of this zombie he's grown so accustomed with. I would feel the same if our roles were reversed.

I assumed Alice would crack a few teasing jokes, just for the fact that I'll be with her brother for the night. I assumed wrong. Rather than doing what I thought, she has the same enthusiasm as Emmett did.

It makes me feel pleasant and gracious that they feel this way over something so small. Their approval means something to me, it means a lot to me.

It's not much of leap in a new, better, direction, it's more of a slight step. But, if I look at it from afar, it almost appears like I'm back to what my old self once was. Having friends, being social, spending time with a boy. A special boy.

.

.

On Friday school is let out early. Emmett stays after for practice before the big game and I ride home with Alice and Edward. I head to the game later that night with Alice to cheer Emmett on. Football games were never my cup of tea, but after hearing my brother tell me about Notre Dame, I feel like I should be there. He's been by my side this whole time, sticking for me, never doubting me. I need to support him, to return all he's done for me.

He does more than well, he's does astonishing. We win the game. It isn't a surprise, not with how good Em plays.

I let my parents know the night before that I'd be getting ready at the Cullen's on Saturday before the dance and that we'd all go there together. Normally, this would aggravate mom, her being the one who loves to take me shopping and dress me up. It's her way of spending quality time with me, she loves doing that girly stuff together. I wouldn't admit it to just anyone, but I love it too. My dad too, he's never nosy about who I like or date, but if a boy shows interest he feels he has the right to know who's taking his daughter out. This time, however, they don't speak a word of protest on either parts.

In my opinion it's either that they are too excited I'm actually doing something different than my usual survival routine or they think they're in a dream. That any sudden movement will wake them up and they'll be reintroduced to their sullen child.

They keep quiet for the most part. Mom tells me to bring home pictures. That's it. I'm free. And it feels good.

Alice immediately drags me into her bedroom, shuts and locks the door behind her. "No brothers allowed!" she shouts, facing the door.

In the distance I hear Edward snort. He's probably rolling his eyes at this very second. The last place he'd want to be is in Alice's room where clothing and makeup have taken over. She's a teenage girl on Beauty Crack. Fashion magazines, hair products, skin care, it's everywhere. Seriously, her room is like a smaller, more compact version of Sephora.

Alice goes right to work, asking for my opinion on several dresses she extracts from her closest. She finally settles on a black and white short halter dress, ruffles bunched together at the skirt. There's only one word that describes Alice in it. Adorable. With her pixie dark hair, spiked and wild and her simple face makeup, she looks both edgy and demure. If Jasper doesn't fall for her in this get up, I'm gonna have to label him the village idiot.

As she's putting a pair of silver hoops in her ears, Esme calls us from the bottom of the stairs. We are ushered downstairs at exactly six on the dot, Alice's shiny high heels click as we hit the hardwood flooring.

Esme has a camera in her hand and snaps a picture of us as we walk down the steps. "I think I'm going to cry. You look beautiful, honey," she says to Alice.

Alice beams and then a tall, blonde haired man, styled in a crisp blue, button down shirt and khaki pants strolls into the foyer from the kitchen. "Oh Ally," he says, his voice cracking a bit, "You look like a dream."

Alice walks down the rest of the steps and tucks herself under his outstretched arm, "Thanks, daddy."

He chuckles and then his blue eyes flash to mine, his face seems to soften even more. "And you must be Bella."

I shake my head, "Yes, I am. It's nice to meet you Dr. Cullen."

"Nonsense. We're on first name basis here, call me Carlisle. It's wonderful to finally meet you too. Edward has told me so much about you."

I grimace at his statement and Carlisle shakes his head back and forth, "No, no, nothing bad. All good things. Don't worry." My answer is a pink flush upon my cheeks.

Carlisle and Esme go on to tell Alice about emergency numbers and money that's left in the kitchen in case either Edward or her need it. Warnings to lock up the doors at night and before they leave the house, make sure everything is off, etcetera, etcetera. Typical parental stuff that kids are already aware of but need that extra reassurance so they don't blow up the house while their folks are away.

"Feel free to stay over night after the dance, Bella. I know Alice would love to have you over," Esme says as they put the last of they're weekend luggage in their car.

As they back out of the driveway, Alice looks at me with delight on her face, "That's settled, we are so having a sleepover when I get back. Details on everything!"

Shortly after Esme and Carlisle have left, the usual gang begins to arrive. Emmett and Rose come together, looking like the perfect couple. Him in a black tux and her in a vibrant red dress, with a slit up the leg, her hair draped in a low side ponytail down her shoulder. Rose never does plain, she always opts for over the top and she looks breathtaking as usual.

I spot a lovely moment of Jasper touching Alice's dainty wrist, carefully placing a white lily corsage on it. She never breaks eye contact with him.

In the back of my head I catch myself thinking that I wish it were me. Wishing I was the one getting ready once again, feeling that rush of sentimentality of one of the years biggest dances before senior prom. Every girl feels that, I'm sure. We all plan it down to the last second, how we want it to go.

I cover up my thoughts when I see Edward come into the living room where we are all gathered. We're practically matching in our ensembles, both in flannel plaid shirts – mine more fitted, his more loose – and faded jeans. Dressed for our 'Anti-Homecoming'.

"Hurry up guys, group picture!" Rosalie shouts above the chatter in the room.

She places the camera, which looks like a completely professional one, on a make shift tripod and hurries to the center of the room, Emmett's hand is linked in hers. Alice and Jasper follow next to them. She rests her head on his shoulder. It's a blessing she wore those shoes, they bring her to a more standard height.

Edward and I stand to the side awkwardly and then Rosalie motions for us to come forward, "Come on, hurry up, the timer is going to go off any second."

I'm next to Alice. Edward is adjacent to me, his toned arms wrap around my waist, drawing me closer. My heart speeds up at the sudden change of contact.

"Remember to smile!" Rosalie cheers, this time a hint of laughter is in her voice.

We all look into the lens. Staring, waiting for the swish of light.

I concentrate on trying not to blink and the feeling of Edward around me. Then the bright, white beam fills up our scene, capturing this point in time forever.

.

.

"I want to show you something," Edward says just as we are waving goodbye to everyone.

"Oh yeah?" I ask. "What?"

"A place."

"A place, huh? I thought we were going to stay here."

"It's not too far from here. Besides, this is better. You'll like it."

"You know, I'm never a fan of those words. They usually turn out to be wrong. Just saying."

Edward laughs and turns around, headed for his house. "Stay here, I'll be right back," he says over his shoulder. A few minutes later, he emerges from the back door with a canvas tote bag thrown over his arm. "All right, let's go."

Edward starts walking, briskly ahead of me and I stumble to keep up. "We aren't driving?"

"Nope. I told you, it's not far."

He's not joking, it isn't far. It's basically right behind his house. A huge grassy field that stretches out a good couple acres of what looks like endless land. A few trees are scattered around, making the meadow less bare.

It seems so out of place in a neighborhood like this one. Like it should be another block of large homes or a city park. Not something so deserted, so desolate.

"I know what you're thinking," Edward says. "It's really random. Unincorporated land. The city doesn't own it. It's been like this for as long as I can remember. No one comes here."

"Except you," I finish.

Edward nods, "Except me."

Edward drops the bag he was carrying onto the ground and kneels down beside it. "You have to see it in the summer," he tells me, while pulling out a folded blanket and spreading it out on the grass. "It's beautiful in the summer. Wild flowers bloom all over." He stands up and brushes dirt off his jeans.

"It sounds like it would be. So, what else do you have in here?" I bend down to the tote and reach into it, grabbing at a plastic bag and pulling it out. I examine it, "Potato chips." I reach back in, grabbing another and saying, "Cookies. You went the the healthy snack route."

"I like junk food, so sue me."

"That's all fine and dandy, but what if I get thirsty? I mean you can't expect me not to want to drink something after eating such delicious salty snacks," I ask sarcastically.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a know it all?"

"Ask Emmett. That's his nickname for me," I grin smugly and cross my arms over my chest.

"Yeah well, I was a step ahead of you," Edward returns to the carry all bag and pulls out a glass bottle, handing it to me.

I look at it dumbfounded, feeling the full weight of it in my hands. A fancy dark green bottle. I read the printed label out loud. "Chateauneuf-du-Pape," I say. "Seriously, Edward?"

He sucks in a breath and runs hand through his hair, "What? I thought this kind of rebellion of ours called for alcohol."

"You, my friend, are twisted," I point my finger at him and joke. "But, uh, red wine? You could have brought some beers."

Edward releases the air he's holding, a whistle follows, "I don't drink all that much."

"Well, I don't either. But, raiding your parents' wine seller is hardly necessary."

"Oh just give it to me," Edward says as he grabs the bottle roughly from hands, clearly embarrassed. I giggle at his actions. "And by the way, it's slim pickings in my household, we're lucky we're drinking this."

A half hour later we are sprawled out on the blanket, lazy and only a little bit drunk. The smallest things are causing me to burst out in laughter, most of said things are related to Edward and his inability to drink properly.

He takes the bottle from me, tilting it to his mouth and spilling most of what he's intended on swallowing, all over his shirt, sparsely choking. "It went up my nose!" he exclaims.

"Try sitting up when you drink, idiot," I snort.

We go like that, the back in forth. Passing the bottle, making easy quips on each other. Flirtatiously teasing one another.

And then the other half of our time spent together, is done in quiet calmness. The sky is black now, though it's nowhere near nighttime, the fall season begs to differ. No light is close, except those from the inside of houses, at a far distance.

I stare up at the emptiness. "You don't look like your dad," In my state, I'm unaware I'm even saying anything.

Edward chuckles and takes another sip from the just about empty bottle, "I don't look like my mom either."

"You're right. You don't look like Esme," I observe.

"Esme isn't my mom, Bella," Edward says so hushed, it's almost inaudible.

I sit up and look down at him, his head is propped up underneath his arm, "What are you talking about?"

"Carlisle isn't my dad either. He's my uncle. Alice is my cousin, she's Esme and Carlisle's daughter."

"Explain," I say, confusion rings in the one word I've just spoken.

"There's nothing to really explain. My mom had me young, at sixteen. Then I started to get sick. A lot. It was more than she could handle. She didn't have the money or the means to take care of me. Carlisle's her older brother and he saw her struggling, he wanted to help, and voila, here I am." Edward's arms stretch out, framing himself.

"Wow," I mutter.

"By the time I was seven I was living full time with Carlisle and Esme. That's why Ally and I are in the same grade. I'm actually a year older than her, but because of my hearing and everything, I repeated first grade."

I can't gather my thoughts coherently, words are flying around my brain and nothing seems to make much sense. I feel bad, sympathy being the most thorough notion. Edward being given up so freely. I don't know the whole story, and I shouldn't judge. I wouldn't want someone judging me, I hate that I'm judged daily. Still, him being tossed aside because of an illness seems heartless. The saying 'When the going gets tough, the tough getting going.' runs through my thoughts.

My face must show my concern because Edward looks at me and then shakes his head, as if trying to put together the right wording, "Don't think badly of Liz." I make the assumption that Liz must be his birth mother. "She's a good person. I love her just as much as I love Esme and Carlisle. She did the right thing in giving me up, for both of us."

"You call Esme and Carlisle mom and dad," I say.

"They raised me. They're my mom and dad no matter what. They'll always be my parents."

"Do you talk to your real mom? I mean, do you have some sort of relationship with her."

"I didn't at first. It was hard for her in the beginning, she was ashamed of what happened. That she couldn't take care of me. It took a lot of convincing, but Carlisle made her see that I would be fine. Now, she's kind of taken on the role of my aunt. It was weird in the beginning, her being my mom and all, but I don't know, now I'm used to it. If I can't talk to either of my parents, I know I can talk to her." Edward shrugs, "I'm kind of lucky, actually."

That's one way of looking at it. I'm so cynical sometimes, I wouldn't think to look at his situation in that regard. His positivity is so vibrant, I'm not used to it. "What about your real dad?" I ask. For all of what he's told me, Edward never mentioned a father other than Carlisle.

His absolute demeanor changes, and his shoulders sink a tad, "I never knew him. I've asked Liz, but she never wants to talk about him."

I say nothing more. There's nothing more to say. I don't believe in pushing people and it's clear Edward is done sharing. He's open and honest always, but today, he's shown me a concealed part of himself. I lie down once again, right beside him. I usually get a thrill when I learn something new about Edward, but this time all I want to do is hold him, caress his hair, touch him and tell him how wonderful he is.

We stay like that, lying on the soft blanket beneath us. Head to head, foot to foot, our bodies pressed side by side. He turns his head after a moment and I follow his actions, the silent question fills the atmosphere around us. Two sets of lips so very close to touching.

A kiss.

And a soundless whisper of _not yet_.

Edward seals the short distance between us by gripping my hand in his and pressing it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss there.

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_**It's just my patience that keeps me alive  
>Just like all those pretty lights<br>Just like all those pretty lights in the sky **_

– **All Those Pretty Lights – Andrew Belle – **

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**Remember to leave some love!**

**The 'Ashes I laid to rest' quote is from a song called 'Dig With Me' by Allie Moss.**

**Part 2 will be posted soon!**


	9. Chapter Five: November Part II

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**A/N: **Here's part deux. Enjoy.

So sorry about the very long wait. A lot has happened these passed few months. I'll try to update more frequently, get myself on a schedule. I'm currently outlining the next sub-chapter and full chapter.

Please remember to review, I'd appreciate it.

Now onto, part II...

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**Lights – Chapter Five – November Part II**

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The end of November comes fast. It's filled with studying and preparing for mid-terms, (It should be a piece of cake, considering the fact that I already had them in the bag last year. Yeah, right, it isn't. I spend most of my free time at the Cullen's, studying my ass off.) gearing up for the beginning of the holiday season, and trying to make up for the time I lost with my family.

It would be naïve of me to say that the night of homecoming made me better. That it took all my worries away, made me different.

It didn't.

However, it did ignite something in my veins. Something that was less of the glimmer of hope to get better and more of the harsh stance that I _will_ get better. I will move on. I will.

I don't know what signaled this jolt of electricity, this current that hums beneath my surface. It's there though, even when I want to ignore it. Especially then. This assumption didn't happen in counseling, among a group of people in emotional pain. It happened alone, with Edward at my side. I wasn't telling him of my problems, he was telling me of his. Letting me in, letting me know him.

Maybe that's what I need. A common ground. Someone who knows what hurt is, what being alone signifies. Edward is an example, a pure result of what I can strive to become. He's experienced hardships that no child should ever have to. He's risen from them, he's happy, he's positive and sometimes his good moods are strangely contagious.

Of all of this, he makes me want to be better.

We spent the rest of the night together, passed out on the family couch in the living room, with Edward cocooned all around me. We got caught, fortunately only by Alice who barely noticed. As valuable as my night was, hers was useless.

She greeted me with an angry "Boys suck, Bella. They suck so much." comment. She didn't elaborate on the details but it was plain to see that her night didn't go as planned. Jasper being the ever clueless guy, didn't pick up on any of Alice's hints. I'm sure they weren't subtle either. Alice is a far cry from anything subtle. Boys are blind to what is right in front of them, in most cases.

I tried to cheer Alice up, but it was no avail. I suggested she just tell Jasper how she felt, and maybe he would finally get the picture. She declined, saying that she already went the extra mile by asking him to homecoming, the ball was in his court now.

My question was, how could the ball be in his court if he didn't know they were even playing a game? I didn't tell her that though, it would have made matters more upsetting.

So, the weeks kept moving, passing. I'm forming a strong bond with Alice, a complete one with Edward. Mending fences with my parents, as best as I can.

Thanksgiving creeps up on me like a shadow. My first official holiday without Kate. I try not to process the thought anymore than I should. Ever since I can remember, Thanksgiving was spent at my house, with my family and the Denali's. It wasn't a huge celebration, but it was a big dinner that my mom planned and presented with pride.

We spent it together with family and friends. This year it would feel so empty and there was talk of just skipping it. Treating it as if it were any other day. I forget, sometimes. I'm not the only one who lost a friend. My mom lost Sasha long ago, and though her heart mended, it never fully healed. It left an evident scar. So much like mine.

With Sasha being gone, my mom saved face. There were children involved, she didn't want to mess with a tradition that was a constant in our lives. But Kate, Kate was the straw that broke the camel's back. There wasn't any way for all of us to come together and be thankful for this year.

In the end, my dad steps in, his decision is to have the holiday as planned. He's always the one to cover up the pain. To go on. Mom is always the one to listen. So we do. We go on.

Mom prepares a beautiful turkey dinner with all the trimmings. My grandparents come, aunts and uncles too. We eat heaps, Emmett hoovers down half the contents on the table. He and I fight over the last slice of pumpkin pie, like we do every year. It's damn well close to normal.

On the exterior this all seems common, what any family would do on such a day. It's as if a house full of people will drown out the remains of sorrow.

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Alice comes bursting through her bedroom door, a bottle held tightly in her small hands, "Mom and Dad are finally in bed, time to let loose, girls."

After my family dinner, Rose stopped by to visit with Emmett, she's been coming around more frequently than she ever has. Emmett was always the one to run to her, now it's been reversed, she never seems to leave his side. I guess the prospect of having a long distance relationship in the near future is like putting nails in a coffin. They're spending every waking moment together, and I can't blame them.

I used to dislike Rosalie. I thought she was too egotistical for my brother, that she made him see only her way or no way. I'm always proved wrong, she's the opposite of that opinion. Rosalie is strong willed, hard headed, and fiercely loyal. We haven't become the best of friends, haven't shared that connection Alice and I have shared, but we're no longer not speaking to each other.

It's more than enough, more than I believed would happen with her and I. Along with finding out new things about this eccentric group of people that I call my friends, I'm learning new things about myself.

On her way out, Rose extended an invitation to spend the rest of the night with Alice and her, an annual sleepover. "Every year we get together and stay the night at Alice's. It's sounds childish, but we only have so many nights to be stupid kids," Rose had a touch of sadness in her voice when she said that to me and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She obviously was taking this last year of high school super hard.

It brings me here now, sitting cross legged on Alice's bedroom floor watching a DVD marathon of Gossip Girl. I would never have the balls to admit it, but I'm actually getting pulled into the melodramatic soap opera-ness of it all. Alice spent the last half hour commentating and critiquing fashion designers, handbags, and shoes each female character was wearing.

That is until she decided to remove herself to the downstairs area and get "refreshments", she used finger quotes when alerting Rose and I.

"What is it with you Cullens and red wine?" I nod toward the bottle Alice is carrying, remembering the wine binge Edward and I had on homecoming night, only a few weeks ago.

"Totally agree with Bella, you guys are seriously lacking the liquor department," Rose chimes in.

"Oh come on, what's the difference? Booze is booze."

"And barfing is barfing. Not going there tonight. I ate a big meal, I have no intention of seeing the contents of it again," I say.

"Me too. I'm off the stuff, Halloween was a bad night."

I almost laugh, remembering what Emmett told me, but I hold back. No one wants to be reminded of their sloppy drunkenness. It's hardly a pretty moment.

And Alice is worse than a sloppy drunk. She's a sappy drunk. "You guys are no fun," she cries, the neck of the bottle clutched tightly in between her fingers. It takes both Rose and I to get the bottle away from her and by then she's too wiped out to fight back.

Ladies and Gentlemen, never submerge your troubles in alcohol. It never does any good. All it does is leave the people who had the pleasure of witnessing you act like a fool with, proof to hold over your head for the next eternity.

And if that doesn't scare you enough, hangovers are a motherfucker.

Alice lays across the floor with her head in my lap. Rose and I have finally gotten her to a point of convincing her she's tired. I stroke her hair and say, "Getting sleepy yet?"

"Nope," she grins drunkenly, "I think I'm gonna call Jazz." Alice goes to lift herself up and then quickly tumbles back onto me. Ah, so that's the reason behind this inebriated occurrence.

Rose saves me the lecture, let's out a exaggerated huff and says, "Alice, if you try to call him, I'm throwing your phone in the toilet."

"What's wrong with meee, Bella?" Alice whines, her little face scrunching up as if she's going to start bawling any second.

"You're just drunk. Everything will be better in the morning." Like I've said before, I'm terrible at pep talks, but it seems to suffice, Alice stays quiet for more than five minutes. A record for her.

Just when I think she's fallen asleep, she sits up a little bit, "Is he gay, Rose? I mean, if he is, it's no problem. Can't he just tell me instead of letting me embarrass myself anymore?"

Rosalie laughs loudly, "Al, trust me, I've been on my brother's computer. He is not gay, I've seen his porn collection. Totally straight and a complete pervert."

"Then what the hell is it?"

Just then Alice's bedroom door opens and Edward walks in. "Some of us are trying to sleep. And if you actually want to be alive in the morning, I suggest quieting down. Mom and Dad are light sleepers, booze-hound."

Alice turns to Edward, her big eyes sad like she just saw Bambi's mother get shot, "Do you know why he doesn't like me, Edward? You talk to him all the time."

I'm aware Jasper and Edward are good friends, but it's still surprising to picture them as dudes who share everything. They're both so quiet, especially Jasper, it's hard seeing deep conversations between the two.

Edward's face goes from stern and irritated to soft and sweet, "I really don't want to get involved, Al. Anything I say now, you won't remember tomorrow. Just quit trying so hard."

He walks over from the door way, leans down, and gently kisses Alice's forehead. Her eyes flutter shut at the action and she snuggles into my lap. When he stands, he lingers over me, his hands brushing my long hair to the side and touching my shoulder. "'Night, Bella," he says.

When he leaves, Rose doesn't hesitate jumping right in, "I didn't know you guys were together?" And though it really isn't a question, there is a upturn lilt to the sound of her voice.

"We're not," I say.

She picks up a magazine Alice has beside her bed and starts skimming through it. She can't be more obvious, I know within an instant she's thinking something and choosing not to say it.

"Why would you say that?" I try nudging her with my words, egging her on. Girls tend to talk when they know you're terribly curious to hear what they have to say.

The beauty of it is, I don't even have to try hard. That one question breaks her and her snatched shut mouth gives way, "You two aren't exactly subtle. I mean, you're so touchy-feely with each other."

"We're friends."

"Right," Rose nods, "I'm friends with Edward too. You don't see me like that with him and you certainly don't see him that way with me."

It isn't exactly a precise comparison. Rosalie and Edward are friendly toward each other but I always get the feeling he tolerates her more than he likes her. Vice-versa. He also has a funny way of mimicking her when she turns her snob button on.

"Am I wrong, Alice? You notice it too, don't you?" Rose puts Alice in the center of the conversation and Alice's eyes widen.

"Uh, I guess. It's pretty obvious you guys are close to each other."

"Close? They're inseparable. Everyone notices," Rose continues on her gossip pounce and I sit there and listen, trying to see exactly what she sees when Edward and I are together.

I never suspected that my spending a lot of time with Edward would result into a discussion about our relationship status. Sure we spend frequent amounts of time together. Okay, a big chunk of my everyday routine is with him.

But, we're friends. I keep saying that because that's what we are. We may hug. I might snuggle closer to him when we watch a moving together. He may hold my hand more than usual. It started with group session but now it's escalated to something that just is.

To the onlooking viewer it seems like it's done in a romantic way. But to me, it's our thing. Him and I. Us.

_** Us**_

The realization hits me fast, a mac-truck collision in the center of my belly. I inhale a deep breath, "It's that apparent, Al?"

Her face softens from her previous shocked look, "Yeah, it is. When I caught you two on the couch together after homecoming I thought you guys had made it official. But, you never said anything and Edward's keeps his mouth shut when it comes to you."

I knew she noticed the couch cuddle when she came home that night, I was hoping she didn't but I was wrong as usual. Even in her upset state she doesn't miss a mark.

"What do you mean he doesn't say anything when it comes to me?"

Alice shrugs, "I guess he feels like it's between you and him. None of my business."

"Plus he's completely in love with you and doesn't want you to know it," Rose says with a roll of her eyes. "He's such an idiot sometimes."

"Rose!" Alice shouts trying to quiet what she said. Make it as if I missed the statement.

"What? He almost got kicked out of school because of her! We're all supposed to pretend like he didn't do it, when we full well know that he did."

I sound like a dumbass, asking the same questions over and over again. Still, I cut in with a, "What are you talking about?" There's not much else for me to say. I am at a total standstill. This whole conversation seems to be about things I never knew existed on Edward's end. Secrets that make me the focal point.

"Should I do the honors Alice or should you? She has a right to know," Rosalie says, serious with all bits of gossip pushed aside.

Alice sighs and removes herself up from my lap, slightly swaying, "Edward should be the one to tell her. It doesn't involve us, Rose."

"Yeah, and he's been dragging his ass for over a year. He just started talking to her now."

"You know what would be really great right now? Is if one of you told me what the hell is going on," I mean to say it in a cool respectful manner, but it's clear that it's come out fairly threatening.

Both girls look at me with astonishment, as if the strong voice that has left my lips is highly unanticipated. It is, without a doubt, not expected. I never raise my voice. The idea that I'm showing another side of myself that I never knew existed, to people who have been unintentionally nice to me makes me feel bad.

But, it also does something else. It makes me feel like for once I have a back bone, that I'm not the spineless jellyfish that I perceive myself to be.

I swallow, "Please, tell me. Rose is right, I deserve to know if it involves me."

Alice takes the lead for once and Rosalie allows her to do so, her mouth closing shut. "You remember what happened at homecoming last year?" she starts, "With Riley?" A quiver is there, bouncing off her vocal chords.

I stiffen at the mention of last year. Alice knows I remember, why even bother asking me?

Almost month ago I was the one telling her why I had no intention of going to this year's dance. I didn't even have to say why, she knew. I'm sure most of the school knew what happened. They didn't know _why_ it happened, but they knew. Rumors spread like wildfire and Riley had the evidence bruised into his face.

When I don't move to answer her, she goes forward with her account, "Edward was the one who did it. I wasn't there. I didn't see it happen, I don't think anyone did. I just knew something was wrong when he came back into the gym and his knuckles were bloody. He was all nervous and upset, and he kept telling me he wanted to go home.

"That weekend he told me about it. About what he saw with Kate," Alice says her name in a whisper, "Riley, and you. He didn't tell me all of it, I know he left some of it out. But, on Monday he went straight to Principal Casius's office. He was suspended for a week."

My body feels hot and cold all at once and my arms are crossed harshly against my chest. If I move, I'm afraid that I'll break into pieces. I cannot gather why anyone, Edward especially, would take the obligation to act that way. I'm angry that violence was entered into the position. The altercation was between the three of us, it didn't concern anyone outside of that bubble.

As angry as I am, though, in an odd way I feel honored. I've never had anyone fight for my benefit.

I must have a displeased look on my face because Alice then says, "Please, Bella, don't be mad at him. He thought he was doing the right thing in the moment."

"Why would he do that? We didn't even know each other."

Alice flushes, "It's not my secret to tell, Bella. You should talk to him about it. As for him doing that to Riley, I assume it's because of what Kate and Riley were doing when you caught them."

It doesn't make sense, not at all. I knew nothing of Edward at that time. All these revelations are coming out of the wood work and I'm not understanding them, not able to get why all this was taking place while I was so indirectly clueless.

I have no way of continuing this conversation and I don't think Alice does either, her answers are vague and I fully believe she doesn't know anything else other than what she's told me. I don't say anything to her or Rose before I leave.

I slowly walk out the door, shutting it quietly behind me. I carefully walk down the length of the upstairs hallway, down towards Edward's room.

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Edward's door is opened a smidgen, a slit of false light shadows between the slim crack. I hesitate for a few seconds, weighing my options, gathering what I should say, how I should say it. I come up with nothing.

Acting in the moment seems all that I'll be able to accomplish. I press my the palm of my hand to the open door and push. I enter slowly, looking around and not seeing Edward at all. I do one more once around with my gaze and spot him on the balcony, a dark figure sitting against the glass door, his head so relaxed it looks as though he's fallen asleep out there.

I tap softly with my finger nails, making a rhythmic clicking sound. Edward turns suddenly, a lazy smile on his sleepy looking face. He moves, allowing me to shift the door open and step outside.

Edward resumes his relaxing position while I maneuver myself to the ground, crossing my legs, "We have to talk." So much for starting this conversation out subtle or easing into it. I go right for the jugular.

"Those are never positive words," Edward answers but doesn't turn to face me. His eyes are closed.

"You should have told me," I begin, "About Kate and Riley. About what happened. About what you did."

Edward's head whips around towards me, a deep crease in his forehead and his green eyes glowing in the darkness of the night. I've never seen this expression on him. Anger. "What I did?" he repeats.

"It didn't concern you."

"No, I suppose it didn't. That's why I went to the principal afterward. I don't regret what I did, though."

I look at him sternly, "How can you not regret it, Edward? He was beat to a pulp! I know he cheated on me, but he didn't deserve that."

"No, Bella, he deserved a lot worse. It wasn't only about him screwing around on you. It was more than that," Edward has lowered his voice, serious and thick.

"Then enlighten me already," I say, throwing my hands up in the air. "Tell me what he did that was so horrible that he deserved the shit kicked out of him!"

"I made a promise that I wouldn't tell. It doesn't matter now, anyway. It's over." An unsure expression washes over his face and then he swiftly covers it up, replacing it with the smile of before.

It's unfair how weak I feel when his face changes to that caressed, relaxed expression. "You can't do that," I say.

"What?"

"Shut me out. I'm asking you something that concerns me and you brush it off like it's nothing."

"I'm not brushing anything off. It's over, I admitted to it and it's done."

I start to open my mouth, trying to composite what I'm going to say. Instead of waiting for me to speak, Edward places a hand on my cheek, fondling a thumb back and forth against the hollow part. His other free hand clasps one of mine, gripping it tightly, "Please understand, what I did, I thought it was right. I know it was wrong. I didn't even think, I saw what I saw and it was an impulse."

"You saw something else though, didn't you?"

"Leave it, please, Bella," he says. "You choose not to tell me a lot of things, and I never question you. Please don't push me on this."

Those words stop me from re-asking, from forcing him. I never do tell him the important things that haunt me from the inside out. I feel like Edward is a balm of medicine that soothes my wounds. But, I also feel that if I talk about them, rehash them, that balm will lose it's power.

I nod under his hold, silently agreeing to not press anymore at him. "Why does it feel like you've been around me all along?" I ask. It slips out rapidly but I don't want to cover it up. It does feel like he's been around my orbit for more than I've been aware.

"Because I have," he simply states. "Whenever you think you're alone, Bella, whenever you feel lost, you have to remember that I'm here. I'll always be right here."

I blink at his words, and my stomach flip flops, tying itself in knots. I move closer to him, crawling into his lap. His hands move to my neck, grazing his thumbs down, tracing the bare line of my collar bone unhidden from shirt.

I press my forehead to his, looking at his eyes and feeling his sweet breath rush against my face. I lean forward, letting my lips touch his. It's a soft kiss, almost not there at all. When I pull back, Edward's eyes are still closed. His breathing has quickened and I can feel it matching the beating of his heart.

"Do that again," he requests.

I don't hesitate, I lean into him once more, my lips magnetized to his. A current shutters through me and I deepen the kiss. It's less simple than before. Now it's needy and hypnotic, we're connected and emotion flows through both of us. I clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer.

It's as passionate as a clothed mouth kiss can be, but in this moment, it is enough. When we part, gasps are left in our wake.

"How could I have not seen you before? You were there, and I didn't know."

That thought has always been there, above the sea of things that swim around me every single day. I thought that before, when I first began to see Edward, really _see_ him. How could have I not noticed?

He shakes his head, his copper hair tickles my forehead, "It doesn't matter. You see me now. That's all that matters. Now, Bella."

_**Now. **_

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_**The wind and the clouds and the blue in the sky  
>The sun and the moon and the stars so high<br>That's what draws me to you**_

_**I am, I'm captivated by you**_  
><em><strong>In all that you do<strong>_  
><em><strong>I am, I'm captivated<strong>_

****–** Captivated – Shawn McDonald –**

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**Like it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	10. Confusion

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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**Lights: _Looking Back_ – Confusion**

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Things seemed to fall back into place after Homecoming. That brush of sadness I found in Kate's eyes left shortly after and she went back to her chronic familiar. Her constant practicing, working herself into oblivion.

It was as if she was putting all her attention on dance and nothing else, trying to stifle whatever was clawing at her on the inside.

And I knew without a doubt something was bothering her. Even though sorrow didn't show on her face, I knew behind her facade that she was unhappy. She looked pale and thinner than usual, and it worried me. But I knew if I confronted her she would hide it. She would tell me I was being silly or she would change the subject all together.

Kate would never admit to any trouble she was having in her life. She was so hardheaded and stubborn and if anyone tried to coax her into telling them what was going on, Kate would coil in on herself more than ever. She was an ace at building walls around herself.

We had been in the studio for nearly four hours working on a routine.

It was to be a group number instead of a usual solo. Kate had been uneasy from the start, she preferred working alone when it came to graded numbers we did for school. She wanted to be in charge of how she moved and the choreography she did. Always striving for perfection. I knew she secretly felt that everyone in our ballet class was beneath her.

I used to joke and say if her life were a movie the tagline would be _**Kate: Doesn't Play Well With Others**_. She'd laugh but never argue with me, she knew I was right. I knew her better than anyone.

When I offered to be her partner in the number Kate's anxiousness eased but it was short lived when Leah Clearwater was picked to be the third girl in our group.

Leah had been in ballet as long as Kate and I had. Leah and I, though never quite the definition of friends, got along. Leah and Kate, however, did not. They never saw eye to eye and their work ethic was extremely different.

Leah was the type of person that even though she loved to dance, if her talent fell away from her the following day, she wouldn't have cared. It was something fun for her, a hobby. It wasn't a life source for her as it was for Kate.

As Leah and I did our leg stretches along side the barre, Kate moved to the center of the floor and did what seemed like a never-ending amount of Fouettes. She daintily hopped forward, on nothing but the tips of her toes. She balanced herself and spun, her long left leg winging out and than wrapping around her body as she twirled in place. She looked like one of those ballerina statues in a music box.

When she stopped, she signaled us to move behind her and do the beginnings of our choreography. Leah and I did a matching round of Echappes. We gracefully held our arms out in front of us, then to the side. We shifted back and forth on pointe, spacing our legs out and then back together, criss-crossing our feet as we went. We started at a moderate pace and then we escalated to a faster one until the end. We reverted back to our previous stance, with one leg crossed behind the other. Kate finished the routine with another round of Fouettes.

I caught her reflection in the mirror, she was calm and serene and so very much alive. In her perfect element, right where she belonged.

"Great job, Katey!" Leah voiced enthusiastically.

I never heard Leah refer to Kate that way before. Only people extremely close to Kate called her that nickname. It was surprising and odd to have it slip out of Leah's mouth.

Kate must have thought it was too, because when I looked back to her in the mirror, I saw her spine stiffen and her eyes narrow. She turned to face Leah and her cheeks tinted to a very soft shade of pink.

I had never seen that before, either. Kate embarrassed. But that's how she looked, quickly thrown, like she couldn't think of something to retort back with to Leah.

Leah continued to smile. The way it formed on her face made me understand that it was real. Genuine. And Kate only stayed quiet, she walked back to the barre wordless, and held it tightly.

I decided to break the silence. I was tired and felt like my body was ready to break apart from all the muscle strain I was experiencing. "Can we go now? It's getting late."

Kate bit her lip, the flush still subtly there on her skin. I can remember thinking, _How can something so brief, unnerve her so much?_ "I don't know. Maybe we should do one more round just make sure we're all on the same page."

"Would you stop worrying so much? I swear, you're going to give yourself an ulcer one day," Leah told Kate.

It shouldn't have made me so edgy. It was just an assumption, something anyone would have been able to pick up on with the way Kate worked herself when it came to ballet, but for a split second I felt like the awkward listener in the room. Like I was the one somehow overstepping my boundary in a conversation I shouldn't have been present for.

I was brought out of my thoughts when there was a brief knock on the door and Kate shuffled over to open it. When she turned back to myself and Leah she said, "On second thought, I'm going to take a break and come back tomorrow. You two should too."

When she reached us again to claim her things before leaving, I heard Leah ask quietly who was there waiting for Kate. Kate didn't reply, she only gave Leah a gaze that I couldn't read.

"I'll call you later, Izzy," she said before she left.

I could feel the tension start to cloud up around us after Kate was gone. I felt like giving Leah a response to the question she previously was curious about. "James," I said, puzzlement mustered up in my voice.

_ When the hell did Kate start seeing James? Why in the world has she not told me? Why am I asking all these questions about someone who is supposed to be my best friend?_ All these thoughts welled up in my head and I couldn't answer any of them.

"That's James who was waiting. He's on the football team with Em."

"I know who he is," Leah said. She sounded angry and hurt and I could tell she was literally talking through her teeth. When I turned to face her I was able to confirm my thoughts. She was angry, really mad. Her usual russet colored skin was turning a rough red color and her hands were cinched to her hips. She was stiff and her full lips were pressed into a thin, tense, line. "God, she really moves fast, doesn't she?"

I furrowed my eyebrows at that comment. "What are you talking about? Kate hasn't been with anyone in a long time. We all know the Riley fling was a one night sham," I said it more to myself, than to Leah. Trying to convince myself it was nothing more than Kate's usual flaky guy flinging self. She never took dating seriously. Kate went through guys like she went through shoes. It was all so flippant for her.

By the way Leah answered me, I sensed that she didn't know about Riley. She dropped her hands from her hips, letting her arms drop to her sides. Her hands were clenched into fists of frustration. "Biers too, huh? You know what? I'm out of here," she bent down to grab her duffel bag and flung it over her shoulder. "I'll text you if I'm coming to practice tomorrow, Iz."

Leah left the studio in a manner that seemed both infuriated and irritated. It felt like more than that though. When I rehashed the memory later on, it was as if she was offended most of all.

Myself? I was left with none of those listed adjectives. The only one I could correctly name without thinking was confusion.

Confusion and I were becoming fast friends in those last few weeks. Confusion was starting to replace Kate. Lately, when I looked at her I only saw glimpses, not the whole picture. She was fading away from me, blurring around the edges, and I couldn't stop it.

I didn't know how to stop it and that scared me as much as her leaving me.

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	11. Chapter Six: December

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N: I just want to thank everyone who has recently, reviewed, subscribed & favorited this story. It means the world to me that people are actually reading it. **

**A special thanks to phoebespromise & jarkin33 for the review and banner on IndieFicsPimp. It was a huge surprise and completely amazing!**

**And lastly, thank you so much to KarmaGirl3, she pre-read this chapter and helped tons with editing! xoxo**

**Hope you all enjoy!  
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**Lights – Chapter Six – December**

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It's hard to believe, but I was actually much worse in the very beginning after Kate died. Before I became the silent zombie, I was a self-destructive monster.

I've been doing something reckless lately. Something I was told to never do.

I stop taking my meds. I gradually lessen the high dose I was on each week. I don't want to feel the fall of numbness to suffocation. I'm aware this could happen, and yet I do it anyway.

Anti-Depressents are a funny thing. They don't hinder the sadness you feel, that's there no matter what. They can make it easier for you to survive though, except they also mask any real emotion you want to feel.

I've been on a mixture of them since last February. It wasn't even a question if I wanted to be on them; a choice. It was a fixture in my life, like washing my hair or changing my clothes. They've become such a routine in my daily life that sometimes I even forget I'm on them.

In those first few weeks after Katey died, – _Katey – I haven't thought of that endearment I used to refer to her as in so long_ – I was a complete mess, I hid it well, I suppose. I'd hide up in my room, drown out the world with loud music blaring in my ears. I didn't cry. I never cried, not once. I thought that if I did maybe it would relieve some of the constant pressure that filled my head, pressed on my sternum, and made it difficult to take a deep breath.

So I did things that I thought would make me cry. I remember being huddled in the upstairs bathroom, water running to stifle out any sound from beyond the closed door, my body crammed up against the cabinet with a razor in my hand. I scrapped the skin of my right arm, over and over. Diagonally and then across, sometimes vertically. Until my forearm looked like a game of Tic-Tac-Toe.

I never cut deep, never enough to make me bleed out. Never enough to cause nerve damage, or worse, death. I didn't want that. Where Kate was focused on leaving this world, I wasn't. I never had that much guts.

And maybe deep down, I wanted to live. Maybe.

But that didn't stop the guilt.

I was sloppy though, and as diligent as I thought I was being, I wasn't. It's true about mothers, they have a sixth sense when it comes to their kids. My mom is no exception to the rule, even when I want her to be. Especially then.

She must have knocked, I know she must have. I was too zoned out to hear and before I could hide my weapon of choice, the door was barged open with her standing there, stunned. Her eyes shifted to the blade, frozen mere centimeters from my skin, and then back to my face.

The razor slipped from my finger tips and dropped to the tiled floor. Mom quickly moved closer to me, her foot kicking the instrument aside as if it were a loaded gun.

She squatted down in front of me, "Isabella," she said. One word, nothing more. Her hands went to my cheeks, as if to stroke away tears of wetness. She threw her arms around me, cradled my head in her palm, expecting me to breakdown but I didn't.

There were no tears. My eyes were completely dry. I couldn't even hug my mother back. I was so ashamed of myself and of what I was becoming, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to help it.

She wrapped a damp towel around my arm, later cleaning the wounds, and leading me to my bedroom. She laid out long sleeve shirts and the next thing I knew was being brought to the doctor.

Her intention was to keep me at the therapist a couple of days a week. As if that would make me talk, if anything it made me less likely to talk. Instead, I took the recommended dose of pills that he prescribed me and ditched the talks.

Going to actual therapy is different than the group counseling I have now. It's more clinical and cold. I may dislike going to group and I may feel like nothing will ever help the pain I feel bottomless inside of me, but I haven't found a reason not to go yet. It could be the fact that Edward is there week after week, like an unfailing star in the sky. Maybe it's Esme's soothing voice. Who knows? But, I know one thing for sure and that's that those people I share my thoughts with don't know how horrible it was in the beginning. How raw and weak I felt. I can keep that to myself.

Secrets, it's seems, have become a frequent happening in my existence. I'm used to them and they are used to me.

I'm aware it hurt my mom, broke her heart even more when I stopped seeing Dr. Dwyer, but my wellness was my business not hers. I wasn't cutting anymore, that's all she needed to know. I stayed quiet, as always, that didn't change. I suppose to her though, silence was just as deadly as a razor blade.

Now, as I look at my arm, the scars have faded. They're hardly there, soft and dull, slowly blending into my pale skin tone. I touch them lightly and squeeze my arm, seeing the skin flush pink. It would be so easy to slice right through it.

But no, I don't want that.

With these sudden changes in my life most recently, I want to feel emotion. I want to feel the sting, the effervescence, the happiness, all of it. I want to be fully attentive during it. I used to wake up in agony. I used to think going to bed would erase those appalling memories but, waking up would only increase them. Even with the meds, I still felt it, it was there like a knife twisting in the center of my chest.

It's different now, though, I always feel a depth of sadness, I don't feel it stabbing at me continuously. I think, as silly as it may sound, that Edward has so much to do with that. Maybe not only Edward, but a little piece of everyone I'm starting to get close to.

It's wishful thinking, I know. But it's something. Something is always better than nothing.

I open my mirror vanity, grab the orange bottle of pills and take a quarter of the recommended dose.

I'm not thinking about the fall. The suffocation. It'll come, of that I am sure.

That doesn't matter right now.

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"Isabella Swan!" I hear my English teacher, Mr. Berty, call out just as the bell rings.

My classmates are zooming out the open door. It's the end of the day and not only that, it's the last day of classes before Winter Break. Excited doesn't begin to describe the emotions running through St. Volturi's vast student body.

I'm always the slowest, always the last to leave, it seems. I used to be the first one in and first one out, but my ability to be quick has been reduced. I don't know what it is, why I've shifted, why I linger when all I want to do is not be here.

I look up to my teacher, dropping my bag to the floor. "Yes, Mr. Berty?"

I haven't had a teacher/student confrontation since the beginning of the school year. I've cleaned up my act, started studying more and doing my work. In fact my grades are back to what they used to be before my world fell apart. I have Edward to thank for that. I think I would have flunked out by now if it wasn't for him and his freakish love for studying.

"It's practically the end of December and I haven't received any word about your college applications. I'm a bit concerned, most of the class has already let me go over their essays with them and sent out everything."

I don't have anything to say about that.

The truth is I have no intention to attend college. I did, but that was long ago and far between. Now, it just seems like a complete waste of time on my part. I've only gotten myself together enough to get my second Senior year of high school finished.

The thought of four years at a university is down right claustrophobic. I can already feel my throat closing up, my palms starting to sweat, that nervous ticking voice in my skull saying, _Run Bella, this isn't what you want. Suffer Bella, that's what you need. Suffer._

I only want to get through this year, these next six months. That's all I want. I've given up on looking forward, I only look at the present. If I allow myself to actually sit down and think of my future, I see nothing. I'm blank. I don't do anything or see myself being anything that could be successful.

"My assumption is that you haven't even bothered to apply," Mr. Berty continues, "Am I correct, Isabella?"

I nod at his theory but keep my lips sealed shut. Why should I get into an endless discussion about my future with someone who would never understand an ounce of what's going on in my head? I don't even understand myself half the time.

I run so hot and cold. I go from happy to sad with a snap of my fingers. Jumping from one emotion to the next. Nothing is ever steady with me. How would I ever be able to go into a university or just hold a job?

Thinking about it, dwelling on it, makes it harder to breathe. The room feels like it's suddenly gotten much smaller.

"It's not very wise, dear. You have the brains to go to any school in the country," He makes unblinking eye contact with me. "And the talent."

He's referring to ballet and that makes me fidget uncomfortably. I clear my throat. "That's – that's over now. Um. The talent part, anyway."

Mr. Berty bows his head. "I'm sorry to hear that. Talent like yours doesn't go away, though, you know. It's a gift. Gifts are meant to be cherished. You've been through a lot this year, I'm sure the schools you applied to last year would understand, given the circumstances. I'd be more than willing to talk with them."

"I don't think so, sir. I think I'm fine with not going to college next fall. It's not something I want right now. Maybe in the future, but not now," I tell him, my voice starts to break a little.

"I understand, I'm not going to push you beyond what you can handle. That being said, I think you are a very strong girl, Isabella. You'd have to be to withstand what you've lost." He puts his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him, "Take my advice, don't waste time too long. Think about what I've said, please."

I nod my head. I pick up my bag off the floor and leave the room.

I'll think about what he said all right.

And I'll take his said advice and throw it right in the trash.

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Being able to kiss Edward freely is one of the best parts of our newly established relationship. His mouth fits mine as if it is a missing piece to my puzzle. His body too. The way my arms loop loosely around his neck and his connect tightly around my waist, his fingers gripping to my lower back. It all fits the way it should, like there is no potential for a mistake.

Unlike Riley who kissed like canine was part of his DNA, Edward kisses like he's starving, hard and soft all at once. He's gentle and thorough, a weird combination, but completely knee-weakening. It's different than I thought it would be. Looking at Edward you would think his kisses would be short and timid, afraid to push further.

This is one place Edward isn't shy.

I always end up light headed when my lips leave his.

We're in Edward's room, where we should be on good behavior. His parents are home, so is Alice. It's wrong, very wrong. However, in it's sheer wrongness, Edward and I are on his bed. I'm straddling him, my legs hooked on either side of his.

It's a PG-13 rating but in my head with the fogginess of his physical contact, I'm pushing for R.

Edward's fingers dance up and down my spine through my blouse and I itch just to feel his skin against mine. No barriers of cloth, just his skin pressed against mine.

I feel his lips move down to my neck, kissing down to my collar bone and then back up, his tongue darting out to lick the sensitive part behind my ear. I never had to tell him about that, he simply found that on his own exploration.

I release a quiet moan and my hands move to his hair, running my fingers through it and memorizing how silky it is. He grunts into my mouth when I tug gently at the ends. Edward tightens our embrace and I sink one hand down from his head to my shirt, swiftly unbuttoning the first two buttons. It's quick and I try to make it casual, beckoning him further, letting him know it's okay for him to continue the journey of my shirt buttons.

Edward shifts slightly and I feel his hardness beneath me. I know he wants this just as much as I do but he stops his movements and drops his hands from my back. His palms lay flat on his comforter, gripping it roughly and scrunching it between his fingers.

"Bella," his voice is course and the way he says my name has to be the sexiest thing I've ever heard. He presses his forehead to mine. "We should stop." That, right there, has to be the unsexiest thing I've ever heard. What a mood killer.

"You're such a goody two shoes," I pant and roll my eyes at his statement of stopping. What guy wants to stop in the middle of a full on make-out fest?

Edward Cullen, that's who.

I push myself off of him, trying not to show my disappointment. I'm a girl, yes. But, I'm a girl with needs too. I seriously want to rip his chastity belt off of him right now.

"I'm sorry," he says as he quickly jumps out of his bed. He drops his hands to the front of his jeans, trying to hide any evidence of his excitement. "I don't want us to be rushed with my parents and Ally in the next room, you know?"

I get it. It would be pretty awkward if one of those three people came barging into Edward's room with one of us half naked. I'd probably have to move out of the state and change my name if they caught us, I'd never be able to live that one down.

I ignore his excuse, though and nod my head towards his problem. "Need to go take care of that? I hear cold showers work like a charm."

Edward blushes fiercely at my acknowledgment and moves to the other side of his room, picking up his guitar and sitting on the window sill. "Just for that, Miss Sarcasm, no more kisses for you," he jokes as he begins to strum the strings.

At least I hope he's joking. He'd be the cruelest person in the world if he withheld his mouth from mine or from anywhere else on my body. I fear I've begun to get addicted to it.

I laugh as I turn my back to him and face his desk. I button up the undone one on my shirt and glance at the piles of papers on the surface. It's the only out of order place in his room. Papers are scattered across the wooden top, a number of different color pens and pencils, proof of what a heavy studier Edward is.

"How can you still be doing homework? I know we have some projects due when we get back but it's Winter Break dude, you're allowed to procrastinate for at least a week," I say, still smiling. I enjoy poking fun at him. He's a nerd, but he's my nerd.

"Not homework," he stops for a second. "Well, I guess it's kind of homework. College essays. Still working on them. Can't seem to get them right."

And then I see it.

A mid-sized, off-white envelope with the following address printed on it:

**Columbia University in the City of New York  
>Office of Undergraduate Admissions<br>212 Hamilton Hall, Mail Code 2807  
>1130 Amsterdam Avenue<br>New York, NY 10027 **

I finger the bold font on the envelope. I feel my stomach drop. "You're going to Columbia?" I ask.

Edward doesn't stop picking at the strings of his guitar. I can tell he doesn't even bother to look up. This question doesn't phase him at all. I suppose it shouldn't, he knows what he wants to do with his life. He cares about his future. He has a career goal planned out already. "Don't know. Hopefully. I'm applying there."

"New York," I state. "Where else did you apply?"

"Yep, one big city to another. I'm looking into NYU too. It makes sense, Alice will be in the city too." The sound from the guitar stops. "So will you. Kind of all works out."

Edward thinks I'll be with him? We've been together for only a month and he can see that much of a future with me? This is all so new to me, having a relationship that actually means something to both people. If it were Riley I would have cared less if he moved a thousand miles away from me. With Edward, I have a heaviness in my chest at the thought of him not being near me.

"Me?" I ask, surprise taking over the sound in my voice. I turn to glance at Edward who's looking at me, his green eyes clear of any worry. "What made you think I'd be in New York?"

"Well, yeah. Last year, I mean that's what I thought..." he trails off and I can hear the confusion, the crease settling in his brow. "That's what Tanya said – "

I cut him off right at the sound of her name, unable to let him finish his sentence. "Tanya said? Tanya told you what, Edward?" I try to sound calm, but inside I'm at full volume. I haven't asked Edward about her, about their relationship. I get curious about it, how much he cared for her or if she loved him. Or how far they went physically with each other.

I've gotten close to asking on more than one occasion, but I've always held back. Bringing up Tanya in any fashion would naturally lead to Edward asking questions about my friendship with the Denali's.

Tanya isn't a bad person. In many ways she matches Edward very well. They're both smart, both kind, and though she's a little older than Edward, his maturity fits hers. It makes me wonder why they ever broke up.

"That you applied to Julliard. With Kate," he answers. He doesn't blink, doesn't shift movement, doesn't try to change the subject. Edward faces me head on. If the rage inside is any indication of how I look on the outside, I must resemble a beet right now.

I try to cool my thoughts. This is a new feeling, I haven't felt it in a long time. Maybe it's the lack of pills in my system. It's like a light has suddenly been switched on. It feels like a slow burn inside, hot and powerful. I'm angry that my life has been discussed without my knowledge. Especially regarding something that I'm so sensitive about.

My fists are clenched tight, I'm still as I stare at Edward. New York. Julliard. It wasn't even something I vaguely wanted until Kate convinced me, made me want it.

And then once she did, I was hooked.

Edward gets up from his window spot and places his guitar against the wall beside him. He slowly walks up to me. Leery as if he's approaching a helpless deer in the woods, worried it will run from fear.

Before he wraps his arms around my waist, I whisper to him something I haven't repeated since last year. "I did apply there. I got in too."

My head falls onto his shoulder and his warm hands caress my back, soothing me. "Why can't you just reapply there, Bella?" he asks. "We'd only be ten minutes away from each other, I looked into it."

I lift my head and look into his eyes. He's so beautiful, on the outside and on the inside. He never wants to see the bad. Sometimes I can't believe he actually wants to have me in his life, with my blatant pessimistic nature. I don't want to bring him down but he has to understand these words I'm about say. I kiss his cheek and turn away from him. "Because, Edward, Julliard was Kate's dream. Not mine."

I don't look at him when I say it, even I can't be that convincing, not when I'm willing myself to believe those words too. After all that has happened, I still feel regret when I think about Julliard. My grip tightens on his shoulders.

As much as I may have wanted it, if it wasn't for that damn school, Katey would still be here.

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The holiday season is no doubt different this year, the feeling is empty in many ways. They say when you lose someone close to you, when they pass on, that first year is the absolute hardest to deal with.

I thought that was true when I heard it, I thought that was what I was experiencing every day, that loss, that vacancy. Though every single day is difficult, it seems those weeks leading up to Christmas make me ache more than ever.

I shudder to think what February will bring.

It's true, though, I feel the sadness has intensified now. Every time I smell holiday bake goods I think of Sasha, of baking with her and Kate. When I hear Christmas music I think of going to the theater to see The Nutcracker with the Denalis'.

I see all these memories, ones I have willed myself to forget over the past ten months. A lifetime of colors and sounds, of fluid motion, warm embraces and full hearts. They're all there, stronger than ever. They make me sad, make me feel more guilty.

They make me feel something else too. It's a funny, little feeling, one I have yet to put my finger on. It remains inside of me, waiting for a title, sifting like sand through an hourglass.

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It's clear Edward senses my moodiness. Whenever we are together, which has become nearly every day, his hands very rarely leave mine. He never questions it, never pushes me to tell him what's bothering me. It's like he knows that his presence is what I need and he never denies me that.

So, when he suggests spending Christmas together, I jump at the opportunity. And then when Emmett hears that I'll be spending a holiday with my boyfriend, he wants to spend his with Rosalie. Rosalie, who's the level headed one of our group, decides that we all should spend Christmas Eve together and spend Christmas Day with our families like usual.

We do just that. We spend the evening at the Cullen's home, taking turns with each of their holiday traditions. Esme makes a ton of cookies, all presented neatly on a red and green tray. It's fuel for the work she has us doing.

The Cullens are one of those families that put up and decorate their tree on Christmas Eve. My family is the kind that hauls the fake tree out of the garage at the end of November and leaves it up till New Years. I never had a real tree or even smelled one, but the scent of pine fills their living room and I swear, if Christmas had a scent, it would smell like this.

We string lights and hang ornaments. When we come across ones that have memento value, Esme and Carlisle take turns explaining each one to us much to Edward and Alice's embarrassment. I see one that's round and flat, obviously made out of a small paper plate, it's painted red on one side, pink on the other. On the pink side, there's a tiny black hand print and when Esme turns it around, the red side has a school picture of a young Edward Cullen, grinning goofy at the camera.

"He was seven, my little guy. And had a love for the color pink. His teacher kept telling him it was for Christmas, not Valentine's day. She finally convinced him to use red on this side of the ornament," Esme laughs fondly and places it on one of the branches of the tree.

I nudge Edward with my elbow. "Pink, huh?"

"Bella, I swear," he threatens, trying not to laugh or blush. Trying to look tough.

"And that hand print. Kinda puny if you ask me," I continue to tease.

"I was _seven,_" he says and exaggerates the last word. "If I'm remembering correctly you haven't been complaining about my hands at all lately." I swallow and part my lips. That ass. He grins and I know he can see the blush creeping across my cheeks and down my neck.

Alice makes a face, scrunches her nose up in disgust. "Ew," she says, "I so don't need to know that."

"Yeah, me either," My brother says as he reaches up with one arm to place the large golden star on top of the tree. Emmett is so tall that he barely has to stand on his tip toes to do that. "As much as I want to tell you to keep your paws off of my sister, I can't. Maybe keep the details in the bedroom?"

Edward laughs, "Yeah, Em. Deal." Just for the that tiny, unwanted jokey conversation about Edward and I's sexual life – _coming from my brother no less_ – I move behind Edward and slap his butt as I walk away. That'll show him.

Edward runs up behind me and grabs me around my waist, pinning my back against his firm chest. "Getting a little handsy there, aren't ya?"

I sigh, "You have such a big mouth. Keep it shut for once, jeez."

"Mm," Edward says as his lips touch my neck, "But, you like my mouth, Bella." I groan from the vibrations of his voice against my quickening pulse. It's true. I do. I like his mouth. Very, very much.

I'm just grateful Edward had the brains to say what he said when his mother left the room.

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We are left to our own devices when Esme and Carlisle decide to call it a night. With six teens alone, you'd think we'd have the urge to get wild. We don't. We barely have the energy to get up from the couch. And when we do, it's only for a small amount of time to clean up the cookie mess we created.

In the kitchen as I'm washing the tray and the clear glasses that Esme served Eggnog in, Rosalie taps my shoulder. "I have something for you," she says. "It being Christmas and all."

"We decided on no gifts, remember?" And we did. I mean, I bought something for Edward, only because I really wanted to. And knowing Edward I knew he bought me something. Alice was the one to clue me in. She could barely contain herself. She was like that character Kristen Wiig plays on Saturday Night Live, the one who can't keep secrets when it comes to surprises. I thought she was going to spontaneously combust and jump through a window.

But, when it came to all of us, we decided not to do the gift business. We were broke teens after all.

"Yeah, I know. It really isn't a gift though. I mean, I didn't spend any money on it. Look, just dry your hands and come in the living room, all right?" Rosalie throws her hands up in the air and rolls her eyes.

I do as I'm told and laugh when she leaves the room. Rosalie has that way about her. When she's trying to be touching and sweet, it comes out rough. I've learned to accept it and even find it an endearing quality about her.

I lean against the wall once I walk into the living room. Rosalie is going around, passing flat square shaped gifts, wrapped in pretty Christmas paper, where Santa Claus is on his sled flying across the dark blue sky, to each person. She gives two instead of one to Edward and when she comes up to me, she does the exact same.

"Open this one first," she motions to the longer, larger one.

I do, neatly tearing at the paper. And when the gift is revealed, I see a picture of all of us. The night of Homecoming when Rosalie insisted we take a group picture together. We are all paired off, as we should be, no one blinking or making goofy faces. We look young and happy, beautifully frozen. Though Edward and I aren't nearly as elegantly dressed as Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice, we somehow fit into the scene. When I gaze over to my face, I don't see the depressed, withdrawn girl that I feel I am. Instead I see a girl who seems to look like she belongs. Belongs right with those people who are beside her.

"It's wonderful, Rose."

"I thought it would be nice, you know, a remembrance of us all together." She nods towards the second unopened package, "Now open that one."

I do it quicker this time, tearing down the center until the colors of black and white come into focus. The wrapping paper falls away and I gasp. In my hands is an eight by ten inch photograph of Edward and I. I don't remember it being taken but I remember that day.

It was at school. Before we got together. We were outside, standing against the brick wall of the school building and we were both laughing, myself more than Edward. I can't remember what made me giggle so much, it had to have been something Alice did or said because I know she was standing directly in front of me that day. Edward's arm is curled around my shoulders, holding me to him protectively.

My expression is shocking to me as I look at it now. Edward's however is different, captivating. He's happy but it's his eyes that catch me off guard. They are directly focused on me, drawn to me, watching me. He was keeping me afloat then, as he keeps me afloat now. I keep thinking of a word that fits what I see in the picture, in his eyes, in his demeanor. It starts with an L, but I don't want to admit it yet.

"You'll never have to question if he cares about you or not. It's evident in the picture," Rosalie says and walks away to sit down by Em.

Before I can tell her thank you or ask her what made her take the picture, I catch Edward staring at me, with the framed photo in his hands.

"Come here," he mouths and I listen.

.

.

Edward leads me to the couch, where no one is currently occupying and grabs a small, rectangular box from under the Christmas tree. I grab the gift I messily wrapped for him, as well.

I've been excited to give him this for weeks. It was by sheer luck that I found it. I'd been puttering aimlessly around town trying to find something that would interest Edward. Jewelry he wouldn't enjoy, and I was a dope when it came to musical stuff. I thought about new guitar strings or or a strap, but it didn't look like it was enough. Or that it came from my heart.

I found it in a used book store of all places. The perfect gift for Edward. It was worn and beat up, the cover jacket half torn. But there it was, a first edition of _The Great Gatsby_, nestled in a corner against a million other books smashed together.

It was the first thing we bonded over and I couldn't help but feel that this was what I was looking for, for him.

After I bought it and got home, I opened the cover and on the inside, blank and yellowed with age, I wrote him a note.

.

.

_**Daisy had said that all young girls should be fools. That it's the best thing they can be. I think she was right, you know. I never had this feeling about anyone else, but I'm a fool for you, Edward. A complete fool, and I'm happy that I am.**_

_**Merry Christmas,**_

_**Your Bella xo**_

.

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I didn't feel embarrassed or shy when I wrote it, but right now as I watch him read it, I want to crawl into a hole. I have never been that open with my emotions, even on paper. It's new and I'm slightly cringing with regret on the inside.

_He'll hate it. Think it's silly. Too forward. I know._

His smile widens as he reads it and when he closes it, he kisses my lips. "It's perfect, I love it," he whispers as he cups my cheek in his hand. The fear of him not liking it melts away.

"Your turn," Edward says and hands me the wrapped box.

I open my third gift this evening and when my hands touch the velvet underneath the wrapping paper I know instantly he's gone the dude route and bought jewelry. I spent next to nothing on him and he goes and spends a fortune on me.

"I know what you're thinking and stop it right now. I put a lot of thought into this so keep your mouth closed until I'm done explaining."

I nod my head at his statement and keep my lips pressed shut as he begins to speak. "You're a very complicated girl, Bella. I'm usually pretty good at reading people. I kind of had to be, with the hearing thing and all. Had to always be one step ahead of people. But you – you, I'm still learning. Every day I learn something new about you.

"So far I've learned that when you're happy, your face lights up. I mean, it's not just a smile, it's your whole face. Your eyes get this shine to them, and your cheeks have this beautiful rosy glow. When your sad or anxious, I think I know even before you do. It's a feeling. It doesn't really show on your face, but when I reach for your hand, I know right away. You squeeze it tight, hold onto it for dear life. It kills me if I have to leave you when you're like that."

I swallow and try think of things to say. Right now words don't seem fitting, but he isn't done yet, he goes on and I listen as I promised I would.

"You are so much more than all those bad things you think that you are. You are a great sister, I see it when you and Emmett are together. Alice adores you, so does everyone else. I wish you could see the beam you give off, not the shadow that follows you," he's quiet and then very subtly adds, "You have my heart." No one else can hear this. It's as if we are the only two people in the dimly lit room. My heart has quickened at the sound of his words.

Edward opens the box and I see it's a silver bracelet. Three charms are attached to the small links. One is a pair of ballet pointe shoes, with the ribbons tied together, connecting them. The second charm is a diamond letter B in an elegant cursive. The third is a question mark.

"Who you were, who you are, and who you've yet to become," he explains as he takes it out of the box and clasps it to my wrist.

I want to tell him so much. He doesn't realize it, but he's brought me back to life. I can't think of words adequate enough to justify all that he means to me.

I glance down at the bracelet, it's dangling and glimmering against my skin. Edward's hand is still touching my wrist, holding onto me as if I'll magically disappear. I reach down and touch his hand, caressing the back of it with my thumb.

"You have my heart too, Edward," I tell him, really, truly, meaning it.

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As the evening comes to a close I sit comfortably beside Edward. I lean my head on his shoulder and breathe in deeply. Edward smells of Zest soap, fresh and crisp and another scent all on his own. Warm and sweet like amber and sandalwood. It's a smell I've never come into contact with before. He smells like home. A home I never want to escape.

Everyone else is on the living room floor in front of the Cullen's fire place. They're chatting endlessly and laughing. Rosalie is glued to Emmett, whispering to him as he pushes her long hair behind her ear. It's a delicate moment between the two and I see how hard it's going to be for the both of them when they're split up next year. I have a sixth sense when it comes to my little brother, just as he has one for me, and I know as much as he's trying to mask it, he's dreading leaving Rose.

As if to shake off any resemblance of sadness, Emmett breaks the silence in the room. "Whoa, I just realized something. Each one of us is dating someone's sibling in our group. That's, like, mind boggling."

"Easy there, Em. Don't hurt yourself with all that thinking," I say sarcastically.

Emmett grins lopsidedly and gives me the finger. Classy move there, little bro. "Well, actually no, Jazz and Al aren't dating anyone or each other so never mind."

"Emmett Swan, you neanderthal!" Rosalie yelps and smacks her hand upside the back of Emmett's head. I'm glad she does it, I would have done the same. Honestly, does he have no tact whatsoever?

Emmett rubs his head, "You'd think with all the times she's done that to me, I'd be used to it by now."

"Gotta keep the fire alive for us somehow, babe," Rosalie says and goes back to talking quietly with my brother. Her hands are replacing his on the back of his head, massaging it.

On the other side of the floor I look over Alice and Jasper sitting a few feet apart from one another, with nervous looks on their faces. I know Alice was effected by the topic of conversation, but I didn't realize Jasper would feel it too. It's a full on contrast from Em and Rose. It's almost painful to watch the awkwardness, especially from two people who have known each other for so long.

Then something different happens. Jasper reaches over to Alice and pokes her side. She cracks a smile and pokes him back. And then he's fussing with her hair, she's tackling him and they're rolling around on the rug giggling at their immature antics.

Edward squeezes my arm knowingly and I look up at him and smile. We both want to scream at them for being so clueless when they obviously like each other.

Rosalie saves us the trouble though. She leaves her Emmett revery for a second and yells, "Why don't you two just get a room and end it already?"

I started this month feeling awful. Feeling terribly low and lost and I've ended it with tranquility and contentment. It's unexpected to say the least. I never thought I would have the ability to understand the concept of happiness again, but here I am. It's melting into the pores of my skin, steeping and making me somewhat whole again.

My eyes flutter shut at the comfort of just being with Edward. With all of my friends.

I feel him place a kiss on the top of my head and hug me closer to his body. "Merry Christmas, Bella," Edward says.

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I wake up to the light of the new day, another year almost coming to a close. The windows are cold and fogged up with condensation from the chilly weather. It's cool and serene, and I feel a slight draft as I remove the covers.

As I get up from bed, I stop in front of my iPod dock and switch on some music. The XX's Intro comes on and I up the volume of the speakers. The instrumental music fills the atmosphere, bouncing across the four walls. The soft hum of the band's voices warm my skin as I glide around the area, stopping in front of the picture Rosalie took of Edward and I. I smile and my finger tips trace the outline of his face.

He's electric, even in a photograph.

I head to the bathroom, open the vanity, reach for the pill bottle, twist the cap off, and dump the rest of the contents down the toilet, flushing it.

I feel ablaze and illuminated. Nothing can touch me.

The music is still playing.

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**A/N: Yeah, while I was writing this I listened to "Intro" by The XX non-stop. It felt like it fit in the ending, so it snuck it's way into the chapter.**

**See you soon!**

**Love it? Hate it? Let me know!**


	12. Under the Surface

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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**Lights: _Looking Back_ – Under the Surface**

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It's hard, sometimes, trying to dig up buried deep recollections. Memories come and go, you file them away in the back of your head as a reminder, a token of proof that these things actually happened.

Because it becomes difficult to recognize that such things have truly occurred. I never wanted to look back, I still don't, not really. You hardly have a choice in the matters of memories, though, now do you? They creep up on you like a dark shadow, consume you and cripple you.

There are many good ones, and I know that one day I'll remember those. That they will rush to the surface of the ocean in my brain, bob up and down and I'll see my best friend for what she was and how she should be remembered.

But, now, when thoughts come without warning, I only see the negative. The things I was unable to notice or change. The things that shook me, but not enough to look for help. I knew they were wrong, that they weren't Kate. Not the Katey I knew.

She became a new person, broken pieces of her old self into a cold, harden, robot. She went to school, she rehearsed, and sometimes she barely spoke to me.

In January, two months after we sent in our applications for Julliard, we were notified of the formal live audition that would accompany our applications. It was to be taken place in downtown Chicago at a prominent theater the last Saturday of that month.

It wasn't like we already knew, but we still practiced non-stop. Kate did so, always, more than I did. She worked herself raw, her feet were shreds of skin and broken toenails.

The Friday before the audition, when we should have been working harder than ever, we both decided, or should I say that I talked Kate into not rehearsing. I made the argument of, "We've been so brutal on our bodies, we know this shit backwards and forwards, let's just take a break."

And for some weird reason, she agreed. She actually agreed without arguing back with me. She put up no fight and it was refreshing to say the least, that she wanted to take my advice of all things. We decided on skipping school that day. We left our neighborhood early on in the day and rented out a small hotel room near where the audition was taking place. It was to be one of those bonding experiences. Or, I thought it was going to be. We needed that, needed a much needed patch sewn on the remaining ripped parts of our friendship.

It wasn't. It was completely unlike how I imagined the night was going to be. Instead of sitting around being lazy, talking, and watching girly movies that I picked out and shoved into my overnight bag, Kate hogged the bathroom for over an hour. When she finally emerged from it, she looked twice her age.

"Think it's enough for not having an I.D.?" Her blond hair was pin straight, and fell in layers down her back. She was dressed in a short – very short – black dress and silver colored spiked heels.

"What the hell is that outfit for?" I said, my jaw somewhat dropping still at the site of her. I sat on the bed with baggy sweats and a messy bun in my frizzy hair.

"You're such a stick in the mud sometimes. We're alone, on a Friday night, in the city. I don't know about you, but I'm going out." Kate walked over to the hotel room dresser, picking up her purse and unzipping, taking out lipgloss.

"You never told me you were going to go out. I didn't bring anything to wear."

She slid the lip wand over lips back and forth, and then smacking them together to blend the sheer color in. "Sucks to be you, then, Iz."

I pursed my lips together and crossed my arms over my chest, angry and hurt all at once at her choice of words. "What happened to being so worried about tomorrow?"

Kate turned to look at me, a cold smile on her face. "You were right, I've been working way too hard. I think I've earned this break. Tomorrow I'll be all business but tonight I'm having fun."

"But – " I started to argue, trying to conjure up some idea to make her stay.

"Enough, I'm going. Don't wait up for me, all right? I'll see you in the morning." And, with those last words, she grabbed her clutch, tucking it underneath her arm and was out the door before I had the chance to blink.

I spent the remainder of the evening worrying. I kept debating on whether or not to get dressed in my sloppy jeans and go out looking for her. This was a big city though, especially the location we were in, bars and clubs on every street corner. She could be anywhere and it wasn't like she wouldn't be let it, Kate had been to these over twenty-one place more times than I care to count. She had that charm about her, a serpent like quality that clouded a bouncer's judgment.

Most likely, she was at some club, dancing with a guy way too old for her and letting him go broke with buying her drinks.

It wasn't like she was totally alone. She had her cell and I was here, boring old, reliable Izzy who'd go to the ends of the earth to pick her sorry ass up if she fell.

I paced and paced from one end of the hotel room to the other, mulling it over in my head, gnawing at my thumbnail until it was sore. And as that last thought occurred to me, I heard the annoying, recorded iPhone voice of "You have a text message." ring loudly from the dresser.

Instantly, I knew it wasn't my phone, my text notification was a light bell tinging sound. Kate, however, was always afraid she'd miss a message and insisted on having a loud, unforgettable way of getting her texts. But, most importantly, she forgot her phone. She was out there, alone, and she forgot her phone.

I rushed over to where it's located, and tapped the screen, sliding the unlock bar and touched the message icon. It was a breach in her privacy, but a thought crossed my mind that maybe she's texting from someone elses' phone, to see if her's is still at the hotel. It was a dumb idea, I knew that, but panic makes me think very dumb things.

My hopes were crushed shortly, as the message wasn't from Kate herself, it was from Leah Clearwater. Reading it was wrong, and I shouldn't have, but I did anyway.

**Leah:** You there? You weren't in school today, I was worried.

It was one message and yet quite intimate. Leah worried about Kate. And it was clearly obvious that they spoke more than either of them let on. I stared at the screen, and then another message appeared, again from Leah.

**Leah: **Listen, don't be upset, all right? I'm not mad anymore. Just call me, Katey.

I pressed the top button of the phone, letting it go black and told myself to not go back there in search of answers. Prying wasn't the way to get answers from the person I thought I knew best, asking questions was. I told myself, that that's what I would do the second she walked through that door. I would ask what was going on. Why was she not telling me she talked to Leah? What was the big deal in hiding their obvious friendship?

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When anxiety hits me, it's a rare thing that I'm able to relax, and this case was no exception to the rule. When I wasn't pacing the room backwards and forwards, waring the carpeted floor raw, I lay in bed with my eyes wide open. Sleep would never come like this, with nagging stress and a pool of inquiries taking me over.

I felt a tremble through my body, a drastic shake starting from my toes escalating to the top of my head, when I heard my phone vibrate on the side table next to the bed. I reached for it, my hands trembled as I clumsily tried to answer it. "Hello?" I didn't bother to glance at the number calling.

"Hi, is this Izzy?" The voice belonged to a male, a male who had no idea who he was talking to.

"Yes, who's this?"

"I'm Mark, one of the bartenders at Flush," he paused, and I let out a deep breath. "You're friend said to call you. Kate? Ring a bell?"

I rolled my eyes. "That depends. How much trouble is she in?"

Mark laughed, irritated, yet still able to find the humor in the situation. "She says she's out of money and can't get a cab home, forgot her phone and urged me to call you."

"Ah, I see. Where is she right now?"

"At the moment? Propped up against me, drooling, and half asleep. You may want to come and pick her up. We're on Rush Street. I'll be outside with her."

"Thanks, I'll be right over," I said as I clicked off my phone. I think deep down I figured that this would happen. I was always the reliable one, always the one to call when you needed help out of a sticky situation. Especially when that sticky situation involved Kate making an ass out of herself.

In less than five minutes I managed to dress myself and call a cab as fast as could. The ride down was short lived and just as bartender said, he was standing out on the corner of the sidewalk as we pulled up, Kate tucked underneath his arm.

I thanked him as he neatly placed her in the backseat of the cab beside me and as the door clicked closed, Kate fell across my legs, her eyes shut and fast asleep.

When we arrived back at the hotel, Kate woke up enough for me to help her change. When I finally got everything put together and my nerves took a break of being so frayed, I dumped myself onto the bed, finally feeling the comfort in the mattress beneath my wrung out body.

Kate shifted over to my space, her head taking the same position it had in the cab, across my lap. I sat up at the sudden weight on top of me, and looked down at her.

Her face was soft with a hint of pink scattered across her cheeks, a small reminder of the alcohol running through her system. I silently prayed she wouldn't feel it in the morning. The horrible reminder of a hangover is always the worst, and it's even more terrible when your college career depends on this one chance. If she was a mess on what she considered the most important day in her life, she would never forgive herself.

My hands sunk into her hair, my fingers running through it from her forehead down to her scalp. It was a comforting motion I did for her on those quiet occasions when Kate needed comfort, when she finally gave in and allowed herself to be vulnerable.

Her eyes fluttered open, deep blue and oddly clear, no sign of a boozy haze. "Izzaboo," she slurred. It was a funny nickname that only she called me.

"Katydid," I smiled, still stroking her hair.

"This time next year we'll be on our own, together. Just you and me." she said, a slight waver in her voice.

"Is that what you want, Katey, just you and me?" I asked, trying to gear up to my initial curiosity concerning Leah. But it didn't come, because once I had asked that question, Kate's face crumpled and a frown appeared.

Something I never thought of until right that moment left my mouth, before I could manage to think it over. "Maybe, me going with you – us being together in New York – maybe it's a mistake, Kate. Maybe we need that time to grow up without each other, you know?"

Kate's face smoothed at my choice of words and though a smile didn't appear, a stillness in her being did. She reached up to my face and tucked one of the loose strands of my hair, behind me ear. "But, Izzy," she said, "If you don't come who will be there for me? Who will rub my head and tell me everything is going to be all right? More than anyone else in this world, I need you. You're my other half."

It was the most absolute source of gratitude, I had heard her say. This acknowledgment that she knew I would always be there for her. I should have felt angry or upset that I was always the caregiver, but I didn't. I stopped questioning things, and easily tried to forget about them, because in that one moment, Kate had the ability to wipe away my uneasiness.

I thought that as long as I was around, so was she.

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	13. Chapter Seven: January

**A/N: So sorry for the very long wait, this chapter took quite a while to write. Real life has been extremely hectic, after the New Year I should be back into a more steady stream of writing. Thank you to everyone who tweeted, reviewed, subscribed, & favorited, it means so much to me that you like what I've written so far! You all are wonderful. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

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**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

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**Lights – Chapter Seven - January**

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I jolt awake. My breathing is heavy. My chest is rapidly moving up and down. My heart is racing.

I roll to the right side of my bed, towards my alarm clock and look at the bold, red letters glowing in the blackness of my bedroom.

**4:35AM.**

Fuck.

I hate waking up suddenly like this. I can never fall back asleep when it happens.

I can feel the thin layer of a cold sweat on my body begin to turn warm. I should shower. Shower and try to forget. It might relax me. Then again, it might not. I'm a ball of nerves right now. Completely unsettled. I can't even think in complete thoughts.

I can still see the setting in my dream. I can still feel the climate in it. The darkness, the fiercely cold wind on my skin. I can see her hair blowing around her. It's more vibrant, more yellow. Her skin is dull and pasty, and she's wearing a long white gown. Except it's not a clean white color, it's dirty and grimy.

Not pure, but evident of malice.

I tried to call out her name, tried to will my feet run to her, to grab her. But, I was glued in my position. When she turned to me her face was practically blue, her eyes so dark underneath. Everything on her was distorted but I knew it was Kate. I saw her lips move, as if she were going to tell me something but I woke before I heard any words slip from her.

I shake my head brashly back and forth, trying to erase the dream in it's entirety. I know it's nothing, it means nothing. It's just my sub-conscience playing devious tricks on me. But, it still is there and it doesn't go away.

I claw at my comforter and stuff the ends of it into my mouth, letting out a muffled scream. Nothing is working. I rush to the side of my bed, letting my legs drop down as I sit on the edge. I rip off my night shirt and drop my head into my hands. I'm sitting here, practically naked, trying to take deep, steady, breaths to calm down but I still feel like I'm choking.

I grab my phone on my nightstand, tap the screen on, and dial without thinking. It's stupid and selfish. It's almost five in the morning, he's most likely in a peaceful slumber. I shouldn't bother him but I just want to hear his voice. Even if it's his voicemail greeting.

There's four or five rings and then, "Hello?" Edward's voice is groggy and thick with sleep. I smile briefly at that, he must look adorable now, with his hair mussed up and his lips swollen.

I bite my own lip when I hear him greet me again, this time more clearly. "It's Bella," I tell him.

He clears his throat and coughs a little, "Bella? What's wrong?" He sounds alarmed.

"Nothing." _Everything. _"I had a bad dream. Now I can't go back to sleep." _I could but I don't want to, for fear it'll return._

"Oh," he says, fuzzily. "Do you want me to come over?" And even in a state of being half asleep he's worried about me, willing to come to me to comfort me. It breaks my heart how good he is.

"No, no. I just wanted to hear your voice, that's all. I'm sorry for waking you," I whisper.

"Don't be sorry. You know you can call me anytime you want to. I like hearing your voice too," I can almost picture his lazy grin gracing his features. "Do you remember the dream? Want to talk about it?"

"No," I say quickly. "Would you do me a favor though?"

"Anything."

"It's really silly. You probably won't want to do it."

"Bella," Edward whines. "Spit it out."

"Could you sing to me?" I ask. I've never heard him sing before. I've only heard him play the guitar and the piano. Occasionally, I catch him humming along with a song but I've never actually heard him sing.

It's a ridiculous request and he probably doesn't want to do it, but I need something else I can put my attention to. Something that will allow me to stop hearing the swishing of wind and the sight of death before me. I'm still shaking from it.

"You want to hear me sing, Bella?" I can tell that he's smiling and for a moment my hand steadies. The tone of Edward's voice can do wonders for me.

"If it's all right with you, I mean. Just for a little while, until I feel like I can sleep. Please?"

Edward doesn't give me an answer of yes or no. There's no word of agreement.

He just starts singing.

_**"And I could write a book, the one they'll say that shook the world, and then it took, took it **__**back from me. And I could write it down, or spread it all around. Get lost and then get found and you'll come back to me."**_

His words are slow and whisper soft. I recognize the song, it's on the tip of my tongue. But, my tongue feels heavy and so do my eyes. I close them and on the windows of my eyelids I can see Edward lying in bed, on his back, one arm curved behind his head, and his phone propped up against his ear.

He continues on and I know his eyes are closed too. It's a lullaby for both of us. He's comforted by helping me and I'm lulled into security by the melody of his voice.

_**"The streets you're walking on, a thousand houses long. Well, that's where I belong, and you belong with me. Not swallowed in the sea."**_

_._

_._

The weekend that follows is spent at group and it's the usual process. We spend the morning discussing and repeating the same thoughts over and over. Our feelings, then and now, how we've changed, how we've grown. Most of us have, Esme seems to agree. I suppose I have, she says I have. She says I'm more vocal, that I'm more willing to talk about Kate. I haven't noticed that. I still hide my head when she insists on questioning us about our feelings. I pray silently that she forgets I'm in the room and instead she'll move onto someone more determined.

Esme never forgets. She's more forthright than any person I've met throughout this whole experience. I know my family wanted me to get better, I know that. Of course they did, they're my family. They love me. But, even with all that love, all that hope, when someone decides to give up and withdraw there's nothing you can do to get them to see your valid point. That life is worth living.

And believe me, I know where my family is coming from. I know because I was in their shoes once. I watched Kate fall apart at the seams. Except they don't have the guilt I have in my bones. They tried, _really tried_ to help me.

I didn't try with Kate, I just let it happen. And that's my real guilt. I should have tried. I should have told someone. Let someone know what was happening, how she was changing. I thought I wasn't the only one that noticed. I thought, _clearly_, someone in her family would say something. I was her friend, I didn't want to betray her. If I told someone, I would have betrayed her trust.

I know it was wrong. I knew it was wrong then. No one has to tell me that. I scold myself everyday for it. Esme tries to coax it out of me, what is really underneath my hard exterior. I know she knows how I feel, she's precise like that. She wants me to be the one to admit to it though. I think she feels if I actually say it out loud, I'll be enlightened somehow.

I know that will not be the case, and so I keep quiet. I say what I'm supposed to say. I tell everyone that I'm sad but it's getting better. That I've surrounded myself with good people, good people who help me every day even though they don't realize it. I'm careful to admit this on a day that Edward isn't there.

As much as I care for him. And I do, I care for him so much. He's become my version of sunlight. I want to be in his warm rays forever. I just can never find words that sound right. I'm also hesitant, so extremely hesitant to open my heart up to anyone. Especially to anything involving love.

I get tired of being careful sometimes, I want to be reckless. But it's easier to be reckless about physical things, like my meds than it is to be reckless about emotional things like my heart. I can take physical pain, physical fuck ups are fine. I can deal. Anymore emotional pain? Well, you might as well put me in a casket.

I always stop myself from speaking when these thoughts enter my head. Because before I never wanted to even think them, let alone utter them out loud, but now I can feel them bubbling in my throat, ready to come out. In many ways, I want people to hear them. In other ways I feel like they're my thoughts and mine alone. No one needs to know them. Not yet.

I keep closed mouthed, Esme nods curtly at me.

Just before getting up to leave my seat after group, her hand gently touches my shoulder and she whispers to me, "One day, Bella, you're going to have to let someone else in."

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Emmett picks me up afterward. We've gotten used to this routine. Lately, he's been the one to take me every weekend verses my mom. I like it that way. Emmett isn't pushy or overbearing, he doesn't demand that I get better. He's silent in his attempts and that comforts me. He's the only one in my household that I can be one hundred percent at ease with.

Most of the time it's Em who gets my reluctant ass out of bed and Edward is the one to take me home. This day, though, has shifted. Edward didn't show up to group, he informed me the night before that he had a "Thing to do for my dad." and then he followed it up with a "Don't be mad, Bella. Come by the house after you're done, okay?"

As if I could be really mad at him. I followed his instructions and so I'm here on my way to his house. I can't help but feel a bit of embarrassment that my brother has to be the one to drive me to my boyfriend's house. I mean, better him than my mom, right? Or worse, my father.

It wasn't my choice to stop driving. That was made by my parents. I had a car once, a crappy little used Chevy Cavalier that was given to me on my sixteenth birthday when I passed my driver's test. That car wasn't my choice either, I had my heart set on a rusty old Ford truck but my dad stepped on that idea when I told him about it.

_"No way. You're a new driver. You need something small to build up to. Do you understand the amount of accidents I observe on a daily basis? And most are because of young drivers."_

I didn't particularly like the car he chose in the beginning, but I never told him that. I did, however, love being able to go anywhere I pleased without having to nag my parents or friends for a lift. It was thrilling, especially to my sixteen year old self. That first taste of independence, well, it's enticing.

But, the loss of it?

It sucks. So bad.

Dad decided to be an aggressive parent after I began to give up. He got tired of tiptoeing around me the way mom did. Got tired of always having to watch what he said. Got sick of acting as though I was no longer a human girl, but instead that I was a transparent ghost.

I suppose though, what he got really exhausted of watching, was his once lively daughter become nothing but a shell of herself before his own eyes.

It must hurt tremendously when something you helped to create, starts to turn to dust.

He confiscated the car shortly after and then sold it. Some form of discipline, that maybe it would force me to forget and target my emotions on something materialistic. Fathers don't get it, maybe some do, but mine didn't. He thought that by punishing me it would make me move forward. As if I was having a sort of temper tantrum.

I didn't even have enough energy to argue with him. In his eyes, I could tell that was what was really breaking his heart the most inside. My losing the ability to want, to fight. It was gone and there was nothing he or anyone could do to bring it back.

Now, as I look across from my seat, my vision settles on Em and I see the one and only person who never left me in total obscurity. Emmett was there through it all. There were days when I would never leave my room, he would set a tray of food outside my door, knocking softly so I'd know he left it. Sometimes he'd sit on the other side of my door just talking to me, about nothing in particular, just words over words.

I think he did it more for himself, than he did it for me, but when I think about it now, I'm nothing but grateful.

It's funny how the all these memories start to flood my mind lately. These things that come back, that sit in the frontal view. They were never this vivid, this full of color. Before, I saw things in dullness, hardly any saturation.

Now these thoughts are here and they aren't moving. Some I can make out, remember perfectly without barely even trying. Others are rarer, just soft shutters of light, a brief look at something I never really paid attention to when it did occur.

My hands knot together in my lap, fingers tangled, and I say, "Em, do you remember Leah Clearwater at all?"

Emmett doesn't halt in his driving, doesn't even blink at my question. "'Course I do," he tells me. "Why?"

"No reason, I just – I don't know. This memory came to me, that's all." I've been having these thoughts more frequently now more than ever. I keep thinking about that time in class when Kate and Leah had that strangely silent confrontation. Or the strange text messages Leah sent Kate. I never witnessed either of them act that way toward each other.

If I wanted to be super exact, I never saw them converse on a social level at all, really. Sometime later, after it happened, I tried to talk to Kate about it. I got the typical Kate answer.

She blocked me out.

But, why did she block me out? What was it that she didn't want to tell me?

Emmett nods, "You knew her more than I did. I think she moved up to DeKalb after your class graduated. Pretty sure she's at NIU now. That's what Tanya told me anyway."

"Tanya told you about Leah?" I ask, eagerness entering my voice. "Why would she talk about her, I mean they didn't know each other."

He shrugs, "Dunno. I guess she wanted to inform me about people in your ballet class. If you were ever curious to know where they ended up or something."

"Did she tell you about anyone else in class?"

Emmett mulls over this question for a bit, bites his lip. I can see he's trying his hardest to remember. Anything, anything at all.

"I don't think so, Iz. It was brief when she did mention Leah."

I rub my hands together and nod my head in Em's direction. There's nothing more to say, even if I could think of anything to ask. Emmett hasn't a clue about any of these memories I'm having, and neither do I.

Leah was never a factor in any of it.

She was another face in the crowd.

And yet, somehow, she's become another unanswered question in this twisted mystery.

Don't ask me why I feel this twinge of suspicion. Whatever it may be, something is telling me that Leah could hold a very important piece to the puzzle.

.

.

Emmett drops me off in front of the Cullen's house with a quick wave goodbye and a "Text me when you wanna come home." I tell me him not to expect anything, I'm with Edward, I know he'll get me home. I'd rather it that way. Em smiles and nods, he's relieved, he's freely able to spend the rest of the day with Rose.

When I get to the front door, I knock a few times and am accompanied by no answer. I reach for the brass doorknob, sure that I'll find it locked, but appeased when I feel it turn easily under my grip. I step into the doorway and can hear a steady, fast beat playing in the distance.

I immediately think that the sound is coming from his bedroom and head for the staircase just a few feet away from me. I'd call out his name, but with the loudness and the fact that I'm this far away from him, there's no way Edward would be able to hear me.

But, no, the noise isn't coming from the upstairs level of the house. It's coming from just a room or so away. I feel it all around me, under my feet and thumping in my ears. I can tell that none of this is a recording, it's live music. There's the steady picking of a guitar and a tinging sound of some other instrument that I can't place.

I walk to the living room and sure enough I see Edward playing his guitar, his face in complete concentration. Alice is next to him, and I realize where the jingly sound was coming from, she's holding a tambourine, knocking it against her hip every couple of beats. Her other hip bumps Edward's to match the pattern she's creating.

They're singing an old Paul Simon song, I recognize the rhyming lyrics right away.

_** Just slip out the back, Jack. Make a new plan, Stan. You don't need to be coy, Roy. **_

_** Just get yourself free.**_

It take me a minute to look away from the both of them, and when I do I'm faced with a circle of children all smiles and giggles, clapping their hands to the cadence. A few have the palms of their hands laid against the hardwood floor.

I cross my arms over my chest and lean my back against the doorway of the room. Alice looks at me, her grin wide and she shimmies over to me. She grabs at my locked arms, uncrossing them and she takes my hands in her's. "C'mon, Bella!" she shouts over the music.

I hesitate and a brush of fear sweeps through me, but just as it entered me, it leaves me. Fast. Like it never was there.

I take a deep breath and release it, following Alice up to the front of the room. Edward notices me then, his forest green eyes sparkling as he sings loudly. I'm not sure why I'm even up here, but then Alice takes to bumping my hip at every other count verses doing it to Edward. We start to hum along, creating a background echo and doing movements in unison.

It dawns on me then.

I'm dancing.

It isn't ballet or trained, thoroughly practiced moves, but it's dancing. It's _**fun**_. I'm having fun, acting goofy and having a good time.

How odd and how unlike me.

Edward continues on, neither he nor Alice notice this minor light epiphany I'm kind of having. The lyrics go on and on until they fade out.

_**Just get yourself free.**_

Edward places the guitar against the wall as the kids clap when the song ends. He laughs while saying, "Okay guys, I'll see you in two weeks. Looks like your parents are already here." He uses hand gestures as he speaks, something I've never seen him do and I gather that he's signing his words.

Some of the kids get up, wave goodbye and latch onto their awaiting guardians. Others gather up to Edward, pulling on him until he gives them attention. He hugs them tightly, whispers and signs to them. They grin from ear to ear at the doting Edward is showing them. Lovely and honest attention is what he demonstrates to them.

I wait to talk to him, Edward is clearly in work mode. I'm not sure what this is, or if this is a frequent gig for him. He's never really told me about. He's said that he sometimes goes to the hospital his dad works at to visit some of the children there. I've seen the adorable pictures.

A boy, around the age of ten or so, obviously older than the rest of the group, comes up behind Edward and taps his arm. Edward turns around at the touch. "Alec, buddy, what's up?"

The boy doesn't reply back, he signs his thoughts and smiles.

"Told you the music would be awesome. Wait till you actually hear the lyrics and the instruments though."

Alec grins wider and signs something else.

"First thing I'm doing after your surgery is bringing you a bunch of my CDs, we're going to listen to them together, bud," Edward says.

The boy laughs and then motions to me with his hands, says something with his signing that makes Edward stop talking for a bit and look at me. He gives me his crooked smile. The smile I've only seen him give me, never anyone else.

It's extraordinary sometimes, when I really think about it. I have things of Edward that are just my own. Little touches and caresses, certain looks and expressions that are for me alone.

"Yeah," Edward starts, "She's new. But, I think we'll keep her."

Alec turns to me, he's got messy black hair that sticks up all around his head and bright blue eyes. Eyes that look older beyond his youthful years. He's dressed a bit sloppy, baggy jeans and an oversized flannel shirt, his winter coat tied around his waist.

He smiles at me, wide against his white teeth, and waves.

"Wow, I'm rude, aren't I?" Edward says and is about to say more before I cut him off with my joking sarcasm.

"Extremely. Rudest person ever."

He points to me, but his words are directed at Alec. "See what I have to deal with? No respect." And then he laughs when Alec starts to.

"As I was about to say before was I interrupted," Edward raises an eyebrow at me. "Alec, this is Bella. Bella, this is Alec, coolest dude to walk the planet."

"Nice to meet you, Alec," I say as I reach for his outstretched hand and shake it. Alec nods and then quickly signs something to Edward.

"I'll see you soon, man. Just think in two months you'll be hearing everything. You may get sick of my voice." Alec, still smiling, does some secret handshake with Edward before waving goodbye to Alice and I.

"You didn't sign to him," I say once everyone is gone and it's just the three of us.

"Don't have to. The kid reads lips like a pro."

"He'll be hearing soon?"

"Yeah, he's getting a Cochlear Implant done in March. He's got severe hearing loss, but the implant should restore a lot of it, he'll be able to hear and talk. It's gonna be amazing for him."

"I bet," I say, and my heart does a little flip-flop when I hear the eagerness in Edward's voice. "We're all the kids today hard of hearing?"

"Most," Edward states. "Some are like me, they have aids. Others are like Alec, completely hearing impaired. That's why they were feeling the floor when the music was playing. For the vibrations."

"You know a lot about this stuff."

"Yeah, well, I had to deal with it for a long time. Plus, I like being able to help as much as I can. It's hard for kids, you know? Dealing with something like not being able to hear. That's why I do these little group meetings every couple of weeks, it gets the kids together. Helps them to loosen up if they're stressed out. I kinda wish they had something like that for me when I going through it all," Edward says, his head bowed forward, looking at the ground.

I lift his chin up with my index finger and say, "Hey, what you're doing is wonderful, Edward. You're going to be great at what you do when you get older." It's true, he will be. He has such an open heart. Such willingness to help and let others in. "Those kids seem to really love you."

Edward smiles, "Think so?"

I nod, "Are you kidding? Of course they do, they were begging for your attention before they left."

"Yeah, they're really awesome. Especially Alec, he's been through a lot. I guess I kind of see a little of me in him."

"He seems to be a music lover like you," I note.

Edward laughs, "He's the best kind. Hasn't been tarnished by crap yet. Wait till I get a hold of those ears, he'll be a music connoisseur before the age of twelve."

"You're such a goof," I chuckle right along with him. "Speaking of music, '50 Ways to Leave Your Lover? Seriously, Edward?"

"What?" he fakes a gasp, loud and dramatic. "It's Paul Simon. We do not diss Paul Simon!"

"I'm not dissing Paul Simon!" I correct him at his falsely vicious statement. "I'm just saying, little bit inappropriate for children, no?"

"Hey, it could be considered educational, I could be teaching them about rhyming. Ever think about that? It's hardly inappropriate if there's a video on YouTube of The Muppett's doing a cover of it."

"Ah, The Muppett's, huh? Well, that changes everything then. Forget my concerned blunder. The Muppett's are much more inclined to teach children then us wee humans."

Edward wraps his arms around my waist. "Now, you make absolute sense." He's about to lean in and kiss me but that's quickly challenged by a tiny voice that we forgot was even in the room with us.

Alice. Cock blocker.

"If I have to witness you're sexy time in public, I think I may gag."

Edward pulls away from the embrace slightly. "Sexy time? Seriously, Al? Can't I kiss my girlfriend?"

"Not a fan of PDA," she says.

"Hm, maybe you should think about those wise words the next time I catch you and Jazz making out on the porch."

"Edward!" Alice yelps and puts her hands on her tiny hips. "We were not making out, it was one kiss!"

"One long ass kiss. Seriously, I should have timed that sucker, you two may have needed a dose of oxygen."

I shift out of Edward's hold and turn to look at Alice, my jaw dropping at this most recent news. "What? When did this happen?"

Alice blushes and ducks her head. "Not too long ago. It's new, okay? I don't want to jinx it. Edward has to go and ruin everything by opening his big mouth."

"Did you hear that, Edward? You're a life-ruiner," I joke as I poke at Alice, trying to get her to giggle. "I'm happy for you, Al. I knew he'd come around."

She finally breaks and her laughter is unstoppable. "Yeah, it's pretty sweet. I'd tell you more but not in front of the life-ruiner."

"How do I always become the victim in the conversation when you two are together?"

"Because Bella loves me, she only tolerates you," Alice says as she tackles Edward while he's standing, cleaning up in the center of the living room. She makes a swift leap on his back, wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He tries to throw her off like a horse would when startled. Alice only holds tighter and she grabs at the side of his neck, planting a loud raspberry on it. Edward grunts in disgust.

"She's right. I'm in love with her little pixie self. You're just good arm candy."

"I gotta say, it's not so fun when my girlfriend and my sister are best friends. Kinda makes the boyfriend feel left out."

"Aw, poor Edward," Alice fakes a pout, even trembles her lower lip. It's a pity Edward can't see it, he'd be so pissed at her blatant sarcasm. I think I'm becoming a bad influence on the girl.

"Anyway, Bella, has Edward told you about next weekend?" Alice asks, still clinging to her brother.

"Nope, what are you keeping from me, hm?" I quip.

"Nothing, I would have told you, seeing as I've only known for like, what, half of the day?" Edward slaps Alice's leg. She kicks him in the side.

He continues, "There's this over eighteen club I've been hearing people talk about and they usually play good music at the place – or so I've been told. I thought we all could go, like have a chill night out in the city."

"I've got it all planned out, we're going to meet at Rose's and Jasper's to get ready and then we'll drive down there. It shouldn't be more than a half hour to get there."

Edward huffs at her itinerary, "Drive, right. And pay a shitload for parking in Downtown Chicago. Make sense, Bella or am I just crazy?"

"Shut up, Edward!" she kicks at him again. "I'm not taking the El. Do you know the amount of weirdos that are on there? Especially on the weekend at night? No way."

It is kind of crazy, we could take the train and be there in a matter of minutes, barely wasting any money. But, I can see Alice's point, I'm never a fan of public transportation. We may live in Chicago, but we're no where near the actual city life. We're pampered suburban kids.

"No complaining," I tease while walking up to Edward, lightly pressing a kiss to his lips. "I'll wear something sexy."

Edward drops his grasp on Alice's legs and shrugs her off of him. He attaches his arms to my waist, pulling me directly to him. His soft lips continue to move against mine.

I can hear Alice in the distance shouting about how disgusting the both of us are and _get a room already!_

We don't bother to reply back, nor do we stop. We wave her off with our hands, but our lips are still connected.

.

.

Near the end of the week, on Thursday, Edward tells me that he wants to take me somewhere after school. I meet up with him in the parking lot after my last class, back pack slung over one shoulder and nearly bending me in half with the weight of it. That's the one thing I'll not miss about high school, the endless amount of textbooks that you lug back and forth. That and the hideous uniforms St. Volturi's makes us dress in. If I never see plaid garnished with maroon and white again, it'll be too soon. In the beginning of the school year I felt blessed that I didn't have to choose my wardrobe, now I want to burn this damn wool skirt.

Edward is leaning against his car, arms crossed over his chest. His leather jacket is open and his polo shirt is un-tucked from his dress pants. His collar is undone, slightly standing up around his neck. It should look messy and unkempt, but on him it looks easy and sleek, like he simply woke up that way. People strive for the _'I'm not trying hard, but really I spent over an hour in the mirror perfecting this look.' _appearance. Edward succeeds it without aiming for it.

I greet him with a kiss when I get to his car. He shuffles me inside and we drive off the school's premises like we have a fire lit under our behinds. I have no clue where we're going or what Edward has planned. I usually hate surprises or being the only one not knowing what's going on. With Edward, though, it doesn't really bother me. He likes surprising me, challenging me, and taking me out of my comfort-zone. It's a slow process, because just as open as he is to helping, I'm just as stubborn to accepting it. Still, he attempts it.

After a few minutes, however, curiosity gets the better of me. "So, where are you taking me?"

"Told ya I wasn't going to tell you. So, nope, not budging," he glances at me, his eyes shaded by black wayfarer sunglasses and his smile gleaming in the afternoon daylight.

"Come on, Edward. I'd tell you. I'd be sweet like that, if you asked, I'd tell you," I beg. It's hardly begging though, not when I myself am trying to repress the giggles that are about to spill out.

Edward looks like he's about to crack up. Obviously, he's no where close to letting me in on the secret, but he's amused by my feeble effort of begging. He shakes his head and ups the volume on the car radio to drown me out.

.

.

We are standing in front of an old warehouse building and if there weren't floor to ceiling length windows placed on the front of the building, I'd have absolutely no clue what this place was for.

The windows are a dead give a way. They're wide and open, no drapery or blinds hiding anything. The see through glass doesn't lie, inside there's three walls of long clear mirrors, but most importantly, cast around the room are a bunch of people creating fluid movements.

It's a **dance **studio. A _**fucking dance**_ studio. _**Edward has taken me to a dance studio.**_

"We're at a dance studio, Edward. You've brought me to dance studio," I state, repeating my previous thoughts.

Edward holds his hand up in the air, bracing himself in case I'm about to blow up on him. "Stay calm. It's not what you think." He reaches for my hand and takes it in his. bringing it to his mouth, he tenderly kisses the back of it.

When he lowers my hand, he's still holding it. "Though, I wish it was what you thought it was. I wish you didn't give this up, because from what I saw, you were like a living dream."

I feel vulnerable at those words. They should sound cheesy. Because, normally, if a guy said that to me, I'd laugh in his face, say: _Nice try, but maybe that line would work on a girl with a lesser I.Q._

Coming from Edward, though, it's flattering. It gives me that flushed glowing feeling. I want to be upset, and I know part of me feels a twinge of hostility for him saying that to me. But, his goodness in the situation out-weighs the badness in me.

For good measure, I squeeze his hand harshly. I can't have him acting all high and mighty and let him see that _maybe_ he emotionally touched me in regards of my dancing, now can I?

"Ow, let's leave out injuring me, shall we?" Edward grunts.

When we walk into the studio I immediately feel a sharp stab in my stomach. It's the smell, the thick warm air in the room. The atmosphere of sweat and music playing. It's all so familiar. Too familiar.

It's been almost a year since I stopped. Completely letting it fall away from me. Dancing was like an appendage, an extra arm or leg. I didn't feel it when I cut it from my life, I didn't feel the shock.

Being in this place brings it all back. The good. The bad. The constant burn in my body of stretched muscles. The gorgeous feeling I had when I nailed a move to perfection. It's all here. These places are all alike. Whether it's ballet or something else, it's a group of people in love with the same exact thing.

I see her then, she's in the center of the room and the people are gathered around her. She's got long, blonde hair. It's not tied up, it cascades around her face as she spins and leaps in the air. When she lands on the floor, she's graceful and smooth as her legs slide in front of her. How she gets herself up is effortless, as if she has no weight holding her down.

It's astonishing. The molten movements are liquified and they stir something deep within me.

"That's Liz," Edward says, his head nodding at the dancing woman.

Liz. Edward's mother. His birth mother.

Shock at his affirmation should wash through me, I should turn to him and give him my undivided attention. I want to. But, I can't stop looking at her. Edward said my dancing was like dream. That's a lie. This woman, her dancing is like a fantasy, unreal and striking. She looks as though she belongs hidden away in the glass orb of a snow globe, forever moving and never ceasing.

My eyes are still watching her but I manage to ask Edward, "Your mother is a dancer?"

"Liz," he corrects and I pinch myself on the inside. Esme is who Edward considers his mother, biological or not. This woman is Liz and Liz alone to him. "Yeah, I never told you..." he trails off.

I turn to him then, "Thought I'd lose my shit or something?"

"Yeah, a bit, I guess," he tells me honestly and then clears his throat. "She used to perform with the Hubbard Street Dancers. Now, she does her own thing. She owns this studio and is a choreographer."

"Wow. That's some resume," I say flabbergasted.

"Tell me about it," a louder voice says behind us, and I turn around at the sound of it. Liz is there, smiling with a happy expression on her face. "Eddie, my man! How are you, love?"

She scurries to Edward quickly and enfolds him into a crushing hug. They're close to the same height, but I'd have to say that Liz has an inch on Edward's six foot frame. She's tall and slender, but toned with lean muscles. Before breaking away from her embrace with Edward, she kisses him on the forehead and then on both cheeks. He's thoroughly loved by this woman, and it's apparent.

"I'm good, Liz," Edward sounds a tad embarrassed, probably by the physical admiration Liz was showing him. "This is Bella, the girl I was telling you about."

When she turns to face me, I can see Carlisle's face, just in a more feminine form and maybe a slight fraction younger. They could be twins, they look so much alike. She has a very fair complexion and full lips. Her hair is long, it flows down to the middle of her back. From afar it looks blonde, but up close it has several different golden shades to it.

Edward's right, he doesn't look like her. Not really. Except for one very major similarity. They share the same eyes. That fierce green color, of emeralds and fresh summer trees. It's a tone of green that no artist could capture. He should know this, because that specific part of them is mirrored on each of their faces.

"Bella," she says warmly. "It's so nice to finally meet you. Eddie talks a lot about you."

I glace in his direction and he rolls his eyes. "I'm sure he has," I quickly move away from the topic, it has the potential of making the both of us blush. "You're a really beautiful dancer," I say.

"Thank you, very much, darling," Liz laughs, "I'm not as good as I used to be. I've had one too many injuries in the span of my career, my hips are bad. First thing to go. I'm an old lady in the body of a thirty-four year old."

Edward swings his arm around her shoulders. "Don't listen to her, Bella. She's still a badass at what she does."

"You're a dear," Liz says as she leans her head against Edward's shoulder. "It's a hard job to hold. Us dancers have a very short lifespan in our world. Don't you agree?" she asks the question and for a second I think she's talking to Edward, but then I see that she's staring at me.

I cough, "Why would you think I'd agree?"

Liz lifts her head from Edward's shoulder, her relaxed eyes locked with mine. "You're a dancer, are you not?"

"Did Edward tell you that?" I look at him out of the corner of my eye and I can catch him shaking his head and mouthing _No_ to me.

"He didn't have to. Your posture, it's a dead give away. The way you stand too, you're feet are set apart from each other. I'd say you're in ballet."

My feet are always like that. From the time I started, at four years old, I trained them to stay that way when I stood. It's the lessons that are ingrained in you, muscle memory. Posture means everything when it comes to ballet. It's the breath of life for that style of dance.

"I used to be," I tell Liz. "I've stopped though, I don't do it anymore."

She nods her head and grins, the seam of her lips not showing any teeth. "Ah, you're one of those. Giving up one of the most essential things in your life to make some kind of statement. I see."

My blood starts to boil at her comment. Who is she to say that to me? Make a _statement_? How is giving up something that meant the world to me because my friend died making a statement? It isn't. I gave ballet up because I couldn't bear the thought of continuing on with that life when the person who loved and cherished it the most could no longer be a part of it.

_That's why, and fuck you for thinking anything different. For thinking I'm some spoiled brat who's doing it to punish the world. The world doesn't give a shit if I dance or not. The world will go on whether I do or not._

I can tell Edward sees me starting to lose my cool. He removes his arm from Liz's shoulders and his face goes hard. It's his protection mode, and I'm both parts excited and humiliated.

The fact that he runs to my side to stick up for me, to be my voice when I feel threatened or upset. It's, well, it's lovely. And he's lovely for being that guy.

The fact that he feels that he needs to do that, that's what is humiliating. I used to be so strong, so mouthy. You'd think I could talk back, you'd think I'd have a backbone. But, I don't. I'm like a spineless Jellyfish.

I thought when Kate died, it would harden me. It didn't. It made me soft, made me lost. I lost that precious part of myself that was me and I can't get it back. Nothing brings it back. _Why doesn't anything bring it back?_

"Liz," he starts, his voice sounds rough.

She cuts him off without giving him a chance to continue. "No, Edward. Sometimes everyone needs a little push. I don't know what happened to make you give it up. Whatever it is though, it can be made right," she looks solely at me and if I had to describe how it felt, I'd say it was hypnotizing.

"Dancing doesn't have to be everything, Bella. That's what people tend to forget, it doesn't have to be your whole world. It can be something you love to do until you find what it is you are truly meant for. But, if you still feel regret when you look within yourself, regret because you've stopped, it means you aren't finished with it just yet."

_** I still feel regret.**_

.

.

It's six thirty by the time Emmett and I pull into the Hale's driveway. In the time that my brother and Rose have been dating, I've never been inside of her house. I know that she lives with Jasper and her mother. Her father, who left when the twins were ten, died six years later. Rose never talks about it, and because she never mentions it, neither does Emmett. His loyalty to her is unbreakable.

I spent the last hour getting ready. Rummaging through my closet trying to find something worth wearing. I'm a casual person, my closet is stock full of jeans and tees but when it comes to evening wear, there's a minimum selection. After throwing most of the combinations I picked out onto my bedroom floor, I ended up in my present outfit. A blue plaid tunic, black leggings, and black suede wedged heel boots. The boots are a nice touch, they make my legs look longer and I'm proud of this choice in clothing. It may not be dressy, per say, but it's certainly not _casual_. At least I don't think so.

I'm mistaken as soon as I step into the house. It's not overly large, unlike Edward and Alice's place. But, then again, who's house is that big? Rosalie's is substantial and tasteful. I don't get to get a good look at it though, before Alice starts to fret when she hears me come in.

"Bella, you're here!" she exclaims and hugs me. Her typical greeting every time she sees me now. After she lets go she does a quick notice of what I'm wearing, her head moving from my face and then glancing down all the way to my shoes.

"This can't be what you're wearing," Alice states and she sounds disgusted.

"What wrong with it?"

"Bella," she shakes her head. That alone is enough, just by the way she says my name. In other words, _Shame on you, Bella. What were you thinking?_ Alice is Alice and fashion is her middle name, if she doesn't agree, she has no qualms about telling you that you did wrong.

She bites her thumb nail, "I suppose Rosalie has something you can borrow. ROSE!" Alice shouts.

I'm waving my hands in front of her, about to tell her that no I don't want Rosalie to let me borrow her clothes. Rose dresses in tight clothing that show off her hourglass figure, they're risque and are lush in deep color. Like now as Rose comes into hallway where Alice and I are standing, she's dressed in a flowing black halter dress and golden strappy heels. She doesn't look eighteen, not at all. Rose could pass for twenty-five and no one would question her.

"You're kidding, right?" Rose deadpans.

I roll my eyes at the comment. "Don't be shy, tell me how you really feel."

She doesn't dignify my comeback with an answer. She starts to climb her stairs, without looking at me, expecting me to follow. I don't halt or question it, I chase after her.

Rosalie's room is decorated in cool blue tones, from the curtains on her windows to the bedspread on her four poster bed. Unlike a child's bedroom or for that matter a teenager's, it's adult, completely rid of anything immature, accept for a few stuffed animals placed in the corner. It an authentic reflect on her personality. I've noticed in the time that I've gotten to know Rose, I've come to the conclusion that she is a tad more seasoned than the rest of us. Even though she's sad to leave the sanctity of high school and all the memories that go with it, she's ready to start new. A whole new life of college and adulthood.

We differ like day and night. And sometimes her no nonsense personality frightens me. Rose isn't afraid to call people on their bullshit. There are times where I catch her eying me and I think, _Today's the day, she's going to give me a mouthful of what she really thinks of me._

I'm ushered to the edge of Rose's bed, sitting at the very end, careful not wrinkle any material beneath it. There isn't a pin out of place in this room, I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one to put a smudge anywhere in here.

"I heard you tell Edward you were going to wear something sexy for him," I hear Alice call. She's in Rose's closet, getting lost under the rows of clothing.

"Clearly that was a lie," Rose laughs. It's the first time I heard her laugh. She's teasing me by the sound of it, not making making me feel bad.

I defend myself, "I'm a cop's daughter. I'm not _allowed _to own anything sexy."

"You have a point," Alice giggles. "Dad would have a brain hemorrhage if he saw what I was wearing." She steps out of the closet so I can really study what she's dressed in. A low cut neon pink tank top is clinging to her torso and tight black skinny jeans are sitting low on her hips. The ankle boots that are placed on her feet, give her a good four inches on her normally very short height. It's an understatement to say the least, Carlisle definitely would not approve.

In the end, Rose takes over at picking something out for me because Alice is terribly indecisive and takes way too long. Patience is something Rosalie is severely lacking. She chooses a loose fitting royal purple, sleeveless shirt, that has an intricate beaded design at the top. I'm in a black, sequin skirt that is a few inches too short, it shimmers when I move. It's topped off with a black silken blazer, the long sleeves rolled three quarters up my forearm. Rosalie allows me to at least keep on the boots I started out with, for that I'm thankful. A bit of myself is added to this foreign ensemble.

When both girls are convinced I look acceptable enough to face the rest of the world, we descend down the stairs in search of the rest of our party. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett are doing what any three guys would be doing to kill time.

Edward and Emmett are molded into the couch, XBOX game controllers glued into their hands as are their eyes to the television in front of them. Jasper is perched on the edge of the couch, cheering them on as someone violently blows up some sort of garish looking creature. Any type of video game is beyond my conception, they all look entirely the same to me.

Rosalie crosses her arms over her chest. "It's nice to know we weren't missed too much, boys."

They look up at her, it's difficult not to do, Rose has a snarky, authoritative tone. Emmett quickly gets up from his seat and kisses Rose's cheek, murmurs something in her ear that makes her laugh.

Jasper pairs off with Alice, getting his and Alice's jackets from the closet, he helps her into it. It's a sweet gesture, watching it, seeing how careful they are with each other. I smile as I watch their actions, mostly because I can see the glee that's in Alice's expression. It's catching and it makes me airy and delighted.

When I turn back to Edward, I detect him staring at me. His eyes are darker, pupils wider than usual and though he's still seated on the couch, his frame isn't relaxed, it's stiff and tense. He manages to loosen his grip on the game controller, it slips from his hand, dropping with a thud when it hits the floor.

My smile widens at his clumsiness and also because I know that look. It's the kind of look a guy gives you before he wants to jump your bones. I've never been on the receiving end of that gaze, I've only ever seen it on television or read about it in trashy literature. So, to see it's actually real and unbearably sexy, well, it's a bit of an adrenaline rush. He could be puddy in my hands if I wanted him to be.

I raise my eyebrow and put one hand on my hip and nonchalantly say. "I was nervous about what she was dressing me in, but obviously Rosalie did a good job."

Edward swallows and clears his throat. "Yeah. Good job. Really good job," he croaks.

.

.

We take Edward's Volvo to the event. Jasper, Alice, Emmett, and Rosalie are crammed in the backseat singing a long to some high energy song that none of us has chosen, except Alice. I've noticed every time I have the pleasure of riding in a car with her, she has the annoying habit of taking over the radio. I'm upfront with Edward, he's quieter than usual, but his free hand his resting on my thigh, his thumb caressing the bare skin below the hem of my skirt.

We ride with the speakers loud and vibrating. All four windows are down, an airy breeze floats around us. It's one of those nights that happen once every winter season. It's a climatic hiccup, sixty-five degrees with a light drizzle of rain leaving the sky. It feels like spring, like it's only a jump away instead of three or four months. It's times like these I want to savor, it's like the haze around me is clearing and I can see through it for once.

The route Edward is driving down seems familiar, like I've been on it before. I probably have, I've lived in the city all my life but it wasn't until I was old enough to drive that I got to see what it had to offer. I used to get in my car, with Kate by my side, and we'd go wherever the GPS would take us.

After a beat or two, it hits me. I have been down this course before. It's been repeated territory in the passed for me. Especially on Saturday nights.

"Edward," I say. "What's the name of this club?"

Everyone goes quiet, except for the radio playing. The hand Edward is controlling on the steering wheel goes taut, but his voice doesn't betray him. "Dawn Moon."

I want to have a complete, full on freak out right now in this car. And if I wasn't around this many people, I probably would, but I hold back and instead of speaking, I nod my head.

No kidding that the place we were going to was a frequent occurrence in my life after I turned eighteen. Kate, myself, and every one we were friends with always spent Saturday night there. Not to mention that most of the upperclassmen at St. Volturi's went there as well. It wasn't my scene, with it's extreme tackiness of neon lights and flashing dance floor. Edward was right though, on some very rare occasions there was good music that played there. For the most part it was a place that allowed us to be the adults we wanted to be. To pretend for a while that we all weren't still in high school. We took full advantage of that.

I'm positive each person in the car is bracing themselves, waiting for me to open the passenger door and jump out. By the look on Edward's face it's apparent that he feels the same. His hand is still on my leg, his nail digging little half moons into my skin. I know it's not on purpose. I want to scream at that though, not by the action he's showing, but by the fact that my anxiety is rubbing off on him.

I do enough worrying about how I feel, I hate when others do that. Edward is my escape, my sanctuary, the last thing I want is for him to begin treating me as though I belong in a cage. I get that enough from my family. It's gotten better, yes, but the reason it has is because Edward has been my window. He's been my light at the end of the tunnel. If that goes away, if that fades, I'll fade out right a long with it.

As much as I want to scream, to claw myself out of this skin sometimes, now especially, with these forgotten memories fast approaching, I can't. I have to stay strong, I have to show Edward that I'm not as broken as I claim to be. It's a hard pill to swallow, to suck up this courage that I know I don't have, but I manage to somehow.

I gently touch his hand, lacing our fingers together and lean over to his side. I kiss the sharp jut of his jaw. "Relax, everything is okay," I say.

It's a lie, that's a fact, but no one needs to know that.

Edward quickly steals a glance my way. His eyes are sharp, and there's a hint of doubt there. It only lasts for a split second though, and he's either reassured or he's managed to hide his unsureness well.

I'm even stunned at how confidant I sound.

.

.

It hits me the instant we step in. The club is big but it feels so small now. I can feel the memories of being here seep into my system. It's that commonplace I remember, it all comes back so very fast and steady.

It's the air and ambiance of it all. I can see it like a mini movie in my head, playing over. The smell, the heat, – why are places like these so extremely warm? I never understood. It's like they want to sweat stress out of you. That, or dehydrate you to the hilt until you keep spending your last dollar on drinks. – the music, the vibrations are beating against the walls. It's an odd familiar and if I shut my eyes, I'd be able to see my old life.

The life that ended a year ago. This was the last place I really saw Kate. It was the last place I saw her happy, smiling, carefree. Dancing and youthful, not bogged down with whatever tumultuous wave that was consuming her.

I barely remember that night. Kate had sneaked in Vodka in a flask inside her jacket. She spent the night spiking both our Diet Cokes and giggling each time I started weaving back and forth, about to fall over. I don't remember half the crap that went on, most of it is blurs and white noise. I don't even know how I got home, but the next morning I woke up tucked comfortably inside my bed.

It's funny what comes to mind when you look back on a particular memory, I couldn't tell you what I wore that night or what Kate was dressed in. What we were talking about, what we were dancing to, or who we were surrounded by. All I can see is her face for the last time before I left the club. She had the most genuine smile, wide and all teeth, the corners of her bright blue eyes creased with it. It lit up her face. She glowed. For that short time I saw her glowing.

I don't remember much from that night, but I do remember that she was free that last night. I felt it, I know that I did. She was here Saturday and gone by Monday.

What happened in that short span of time that shifted? What changed? I never looked at it or tried to make sense of it. I let it take me over but never tried to understand it.

Far beyond where we are all standing, way in the back I can almost see it. See her, see Kate. That vision is staring back at me, it's not whole, but she's there. She bares an expression that's unreadable. It's not any emotion I can recognize but I well up with the feeling of dread anyway.

I want to vomit, can feel the rise of bile in my stomach. I swallow and blink, sweat is in my eyes and then I feel Edward's cool hand on the back of my neck, rubbing small circles. It's like an oasis in a desert that I thought was dry. He brings me back, will always brings me back.

The vision fades as soon as he touches me. She's gone as if she never was there to begin with.

I turn around to face Edward and that concerned, unknown look that he had in the car has returned. "We don't have to stay, we can leave," He touches my face and strokes me cheek.

I shake my head, "No. I'm fine, it's just hot. Maybe I need something to drink."

Edward nods but the worried attitude doesn't leave. "I'll get you some water."

I let him and almost instantly Alice is by my side. "We haven't even been here five minutes and I already never want to leave!" she enthusiastically yells over the music.

I yell back, "You probably say that every time you come here!"

"Of course! Who wouldn't? I wanna dance," she wines.

"Then go dance."

"I can't, not by myself, anyway."

"Where's Jasper? Isn't he supposed to take on the task of being your dance partner? He's your boyfriend and all."

"Jasper hates this kind of stuff. It'd be a miracle if I could convince him to dance with me at all."

"Not his scene, huh?"

Alice shakes her head. I'm about to suggest for her to go seek out Rosalie but that idea wouldn't work, because out of the corner of my eye I see her and Emmett clung closely together on the dance floor, and it isn't even a slow song.

Jasper makes his way through the crowd behind Alice, and before she can turn around to see him, he has is arms around her waist and his head in the crook of her neck.

She turns to him with a big smile on her face and says something in his ear. It's really adorable seeing them play the couple game. When he's around, Alice is never happier.

Edward returns to my side shortly after, uncaps the water bottle and places it in my hand. "What a line. You wouldn't be believe the awful things I had to do to get that for you."

I tilt my head and take a sip of the water, it wets my lips and the river of cold rushes down my body. "My hero," I quip.

"You know, one day you won't be sarcastic. That'll be a very good day, I think."

"Oh please, you love it," I tease, poking him in his chest.

"Mm," he grunts and then a smile breaks his serious face. "I do."

.

.

Rihanna's singing about how she found love in a hopeless place and the beat is pounding going higher and higher until it hits the ceiling. Edward is slung around me, one arm across my chest and his hips bumping into mine. The lights are flashing around us, hot electrifying colors creating rainbow auras. His head is propped on my shoulder and his laughter rings in my ear.

We're all in a group, I'm between Edward and Jasper, while Alice dances around us. She's trying to be still but it's clearly not working. "C'mon Jazz!" she shouts, "I love this song."

"Nope, can't do it. I have no rhythm, all I do is flail around."

She shimmies up to him and stands on her tip toes, sticks her bottom lip out in a pout and says, "I bet that's not true."

"Ally you are the cutest girl, but I fear for our relationship if you see me dance. Not budging. I'm sure Edward would love to dance with you though!"

Alice pouts a little more but doesn't push with words, she turns to Edward at Jasper's suggestion and starts jumping up and down. "Please Edward? Please? C'mon we used to dance all the time."

"When we were five and watched Barney together. I think Bella wants to dance anyway, don't you Bella?" Edward asks hopefully, his eyebrows raising in a pleading affect.

"Think again," I laugh. "Go dance with your sister."

"That sounds so wrong on so many different levels. Thanks for your help!" Edward says over his shoulder as Alice drags him away.

They're both close to where we are standing, dancing far apart and making up crazy moves. It's clear that half the moves they're using are inside jokes between the two of them. When Edward whips out a robot move, letting his arm hang back and forth, Alice giggles hysterically.

I can't hold it in any longer and start to laugh at the image in front of me, "God," I say. "We are dating the biggest geeks."

"Alice makes it look cute. Not sure I can say that about Edward, though," Jasper smiles.

"Nah, he's cute." I cross my arms over my chest and continue to look and laugh at my boyfriend. He's jumping to match Alice and if Jasper has no rhythm, he shouldn't be worried because neither does Alice or Edward.

"I'll take your word for it," Jasper comes up to stand closer to me. "Edward was worried about bringing you here tonight."

I turn at that, taking my eyes off Edward and Alice and face Jasper. He's mirroring my body language, arms are crossed against his chest. "I got that when he didn't bother to tell me what the name of the place was when he asked me to come along. Why was he concerned?"

"He wasn't sure you could handle it. I told him that you could."

"You did?"

Jasper hums in agreement at my curious questioning. "I think you're stronger than you make yourself out to be, Bella. Edward treats you like you'll fall apart sometimes. That's gotta get tiresome."

It does. I don't ever want to tell him that. I'd feel even more guilty if I did. Edward is a gentle soul. He believes that kindness will make all things better, that even out of the worst situations, tender and tempered will prevail. I don't feel that way, especially when it comes to my own problems.

He's terribly sweet and sometimes terribly naive.

It's glorious of him to see only the good in me, but him fussing over me like a newborn child can hit its limit. I should extinguish that thought, because when I look at him now, frolicking around and making Alice shake with laughter, I don't want to be with anyone else but him. Edward says I have a light in me, but really it's his beacon that envelopes me.

"Sometimes, I guess," I answer Jasper. "But, he means well."

Jasper nods his head and frowns a little, "He does, he's my best friend, he's helped me through a lot. But, sometimes, when it comes to major situations, you're the only person that can help you."

Immediately I start to wonder what exactly Edward helped Jasper through. Jasper is the most quiet one of our group. He never outright speaks, except when he's around Alice or Edward. Where Rosalie is extroverted, Jasper is introverted. Twins, but polar opposites. I made that assumption my first day back to school and it still hasn't changed. This is really our first one on one conversation and though I itch to know more, Jasper seems to be one who only tells his story to those he truly trusts.

"It's not my business to pry," he says, "I hate when people do that to me, so I can imagine how much you must dislike it."

"You have no idea," I say and then I realize I've cut him off before he's done speaking. My fingers move to cover my mouth, Jasper laughs at my gesture.

"No one can exactly get where you're coming from. Believe me, I've had my losses and I'm talking from experience, tiptoeing around it only helps so much and then it's up to you."

I could have this conversation for hours, days even, but it's not going to change how I feel. I don't want to talk about it. That's part of the reason why Edward and I work so well. He may scuttle around me, dance around the subject, but he never asks, he never pushes. I don't need to be pushed, if I'm pushed, I'll back away. Edward understands that.

I hope he does. Those looks he was giving me earlier gave me an eery feeling. He had that expression like he was about to ask, like it was on the tip of his tongue. It was fleeting, but it made me think of him as a levy about to break.

Jasper runs a hand through his hair, the ashy blonde curls fall back onto his face. "So, this place obviously holds plenty of memories, huh?"

"Hey Jazz, you just preached to me about how annoying people can be when they edge questions out of you, and that I have to be the one that helps myself. Are you honestly going to be one of those annoying people right now?" I smile slyly.

"Touche," Jasper grins back. "Nah, what I mean is, those memories – they aren't all about you and Kate."

It isn't a question. It's a statement, a clear fact that this place isn't only about Kate and I. The way he mentions it makes me think that I should know what he's talking about, that it should be fresh in my mind. I can almost see it, actually. You know, when you know you've been somewhere before or you should be able to put a finger on the memory, it's kind of like deja vu.

It's a familiar feeling but it's gone in seconds, clouded out with my over-thinking it. "You sound like you know something that I don't know."

"We all used to come here a lot, big group outing. It's all pretty much the same, Em and Rose did their thing and Alice and I skidded around the fact that we both liked each other. At least the latter is sorted out," he releases a huff of laughter.

"What about Edward?" I ask, prying a bit.

"What about Edward?" Jasper repeats.

Jasper said nothing about Edward and who he was paired off with. I think about Tanya and him dancing closely together on the floor. The feel of arms and limbs tangled around each other and I can sense the rage in me start to rise. I'm jealous of a girl who is no longer in the picture and as much as I want to shelve it, I can't.

I stand here, pining away, afraid to even tap my foot to the beat of sound and all I can think of is: Edward once had a normal girlfriend. One who wasn't so scared to take chances or to be normal. I want to be normal for him, but I can't. I want to give him that. But in truth, some days, waking up in the morning is hard enough.

"So, what, Edward took Tanya here all the times you came?"

He shrugs, "She came a couple of times. Nice girl but really steadfast. She never really hung around us all that much, was always studying."

He's right about that, Tanya was the brilliant one of the Denali sisters. If anyone was going to excel in something, it would be her. Future doctor or lawyer, it was written all over her, branded into by her father all of her childhood.

Quietly I say, "She must have been good for him, then. Edward works just as hard."

Jasper lets out another laugh again, except it isn't really humorous. It's more of a_ Oh Bella, you really don't get it, do you? _He's right about that, I don't get it. "That was the most they had in common. She wasn't the reason he wanted to come here and she wasn't the one that interested him."

I have a perplexed expression on my face and I'm ready to ask Jasper to be a bit more specific, to explain what he means. I need things spelled out for me. But, then, I feel Edward's head tucked into my shoulder and his leans arms grabbing at my waist.

"What ya doing, Hale? Stealing my girl?" Edward's slightly out of breath and his laughter makes my neck damp.

Jasper joins in on the laughing, "Is Alice pissed?"

"Let's see, she came here thinking you and her would be dancing all night and she ends up dancing with her brother. Yeah, buddy, I think she's a little ticked off."

Jasper rolls his eyes and clears his throat. "Guess I should go find her, make it up to her. At least this song isn't crap." He walks off into the crowd searching for Alice.

I hear the beginning hum of Florence Welch's beautifully hypnotic voice. No, no, this song is not crap. It's so far from that.

Edward nuzzles my ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth. A shiver runs down my spine. "Dance with me, Bella," he purrs. "It's a really good song."

I can't say no to that.

I say that phrase way too much: _**I can't**_. It's become highly repetitive wording in my every day vocabulary. I say I can't a lot, and I mean it, there is plenty I can't do.

However, I also can't say no to him. Not to that rumbling, low voice and the tight squeeze of his arms around me. Every prickle of energy in me, wants him and only him.

I move away from Edward's touch, linking our hands together and pull him behind me as I lead him out to the center of the dance floor.

.

.

I shut my eyes at the start of the words being sung.

._**  
><strong>_

_**And I've been fool and I've been blind **_

_** I could never leave the past behind **_

_** I can see no way, I can see no way **_

_** I'm always dragging that horse around **_

_** All of these questions, such a mournful sound **_

_** Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground **_

_** Cause I like to keep my issues strong**_

_**Its always darkest before the dawn**_

._**  
><strong>_

The melody bleeds through me. I feel the lyrics hitting my sub-conscience like it was written for me. This is how I feel everyday. Every time I start a new day, this is what my mind repeats over and over.

I'm moving to match the beat, my hips are swaying back and forth. It's fast and my heart is pounding in sync to the sound. My eyes must still be closed, all I see is darkness, nothing.

When I open my eyes, Edward is standing so close to me, and yet he isn't touching me. His hands have fallen to his sides, no longer around my waist. The song is still playing on but I'm not listening to it anymore. It's fuzzy, just a sort of buzzing in my ears, nothing more. I'm not thinking about how a minute ago I had wrapped myself around the poetic words, how I felt so close and understood in them.

No. Right now all I see is him.

I was absorbed in the music, not realizing how Edward was watching me. My fears, my regret, my guilt, though it's never fully gone, at this very moment, it's washing away. It won't last long, but while it's taken it's leave, I should embrace it. I **will** embrace it.

Edward's cheeks are red, but not out of embarrassment, they're a heated flush from the impact of this place. His lips are parted and his eyes have a look I've never witnessed before. They're not widely open, they're slitted slightly and they are boring straight into mine.

"What?" I question. His expression is unfamiliar and I can't describe it, can't put a name on it. It's that look he was giving me tonight, in the car and then when we entered the club. Only now it's more bold, more concentrated.

Edward doesn't answer me, he places both of his warm hands on my face. I feel the heat on his palms seeping into my cheeks. His face is centimeters away from mine, I can feel the wetness of his breath against my jaw.

"Bella," he breathes, "I love you." It's a hush of a whisper.

It should shake me like an earthquake, rock me unsteady. It doesn't though, I stay grounded. More grounded than I've felt in a long time. It hits me, with those looks he was showing me, this thought was on his mind all night.

I'm not surprised, nor am I afraid.

At this moment, I just am.

Plain and simple. No right or wrong. No fear.

Just Edward and I, and a tranquil beat of music that matches the beat of our hearts.

I reach up to him, standing on my toes as my hands touch his face. My thumbs brush against the hollow of his cheekbones and they swipe at his full, bottom lip. He swallows at the contact.

It's the anticipation that's the best part, I think. The few seconds before the actual kiss. That pregnant silence, it's only soft gasps of breath and aromas of want. I can see the fire crackling in his green eyes, how he's trying to hold himself back, waiting for me to make the first move this time.

And, I do. I press my lips to his, and sigh as I taste the sweet essence of him. I open my mouth against his and feel the soft touch of his tongue connect with mine. It begins as it always begins when we kiss, gentle, so very gentle. But it doesn't end that way, either. It grows heated, frantic, and desperate.

When we pull away, there will be expectations of words I'm supposed to say back. Even though I feel no fear now, it'll come as soon as our lips part. I've never said those words and really meant them. Not with someone like Edward. This is real.

__.

_**And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back  
>And given half the chance would I take any of it back<br>It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone  
>It's always darkest before the dawn<br>**_.**_  
>And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't<br>So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road  
>And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope<br>It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat  
>Cause looking for heaven, for the devil in me<br>Looking for heaven, for the devil in me  
>Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me <em>**

.**_  
><em>**

I'm pouring out all that I'm unable to say to Edward as my lips tug at his, my fingers grip at the short hairs at the back of his neck. Every word he has no problem admitting, every feeling he has no problem expressing, I feel all those too and maybe even more. But, telling him, opening up, and being so emotionally raw – it's harder than I can comprehend.

It's hard to say who breaks the kiss first, but when we pull away, Edward says the words quietly into my temple, "You don't have to say it back."

I close my eyes and release a breath I didn't even know I was holding. He's giving me permission, not expectations. He gives me time, nothing but time to work myself out.

"I want to, I really do." My voice cracks as I say the sentence. I've forgotten how to be open, how to let myself express what is in my heart. I've thrown away the key that's locked all of the secrets of me, away.

"I know you do. And you will. You just need to know that I feel those words every single day."

_**I feel those words too, Edward. Everyday and every time you look at me. They're there, right on the edge, all I have to do is let them out. **_

I just have to find that key. Maybe Jasper is right, maybe I'm the only one the can help me move forward.

.

.

It's late January. The warm front Chicago had only a short period ago has long passed and now it's cold as ice. The sky is black, bare of any stars.

It's late at night, around midnight, maybe later. I have my gray peacoat on over a ratty school sweatshirt and my flannel pajama pants. I woke up twenty minutes ago. I should feel sleepy and groggy, but with the nightmares and now the cold shock of the weather, I'm wide awake. No chance of falling back asleep now.

The dreams have started to become more vivid. They aren't like oil paintings anymore, fuzzy and hard to make out. They are now crystal clear in 1080p HD, a moving film that only stops when I wake up.

But they don't actually stop, either. They play on even when I've fully woken. Usually as soon as you wake up, a dream fades, you can't remember it. What scared you in your sleep, seems silly in the light of waking. Not for me, though. It sticks with me like crazy glue. It repeats like a skipping record, never leaves and I can't let it go. I can't focus on anything else.

It's all in my head, I know that, but it haunts me all the same. I don't want to describe it, don't want to look back and remember what floods my head every time I close my eyes now.

Deep breaths and calming exercises don't work and calling Edward was a bust. He didn't pick up, probably sound asleep in a peaceful dream state. I can't expect him to save me always, I've become so reliant on his hand that I can't seem to stand on my own.

I did the only thing that made sense to me. I took Emmett's car keys, borrowed his beloved truck and drove to Saint Joseph's Cemetery.

I stand here now, a few feet away from Kate's grave. I squat down and reach to touch the letters carved into the hard stone.

_**Here rests Katrina Lana Denali. **_

_** Loving daughter, sister, and friend. **_

_** A life short lived. Rest in peace, beloved child.**_

_** 1992-2010**_

The etched out letters and numbers feel cold and hard beneath my finger tips. I skim them over and over again, as if I'm touching a part of Kate. At this moment, more than anything else in this world, all I want to do is talk to her. To hear voice and ask her why.

_Why did you do this? Why did you want to leave? Why didn't you ask for help? It's killing me, Kate. Slowly, it's killing me slowly. Why can't I let you go?_

"Izzy?" I distantly hear my name being called and freeze. A male voice, and I think of Edward. But, no, that isn't right. I'm not Izzy when Edward is near, nor am I ever really Izzy anymore. It couldn't be Emmett, I'd be able to hear his bear-like movements, coming up behind me no matter how wrapped up in thought I was. Besides, nothing wakes Em when he's sleeping.

My hands leave the grave as I ever so steadily start to rise from my lowered position. I turn around and squint. Not very far away, stands Riley Biers. Riley whom I haven't spoken to or seen since last year. Riley, who basically disappeared from every part of my life, faded from my existence.

Here he stands, slightly hunched, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and his face creased with stress and worry.

He clears his throat. His voice is horse when he says, "I thought it was you. I didn't know you come here. I haven't seen you here before, anyway."

_** Before? Riley has been here before? **_

I don't bother asking what he's talking about or why he's talking to me at all. I start to walk slowly away from Kate's gravestone and pick up speed, nearly running fast past him.

Behind me I hear him raise his voice saying my name. "Izzy, please wait. I need to talk to you. I need – please ..." It sounds almost like he's begging but I ignore it anyway, making way for the truck.

My hands shake as I turn the key in the ignition and grip the steering wheel. I drive away, my breathing heavier than it was before I left my house.

.

.

_**- It's always darkest before the dawn -**_

.

._**  
><strong>_

**A/N Continued: **

**Songs used in this chapter were the following: **

**Coldplay - Swallowed In the Sea  
><strong>

**Paul Simon - 50 Way to Leave Your Lover**

**Florence + the Machine - Shake It Out**

**Like it? Don't like it? Let me know!**_**  
><strong>_


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